Death's Last Prophecy
by JustObviousAnswers
Summary: What happens after The Battle of Hogwarts, when Voldemort is no-more? Does Harry live a comfy, carefree life - or does he try to fix the world around him? What happens when that world is taken away from him, and he's left with nothing but a ring? Let's find out.. Harry/DaphneG; Super-Harry; Mind Magic; Time-Travel; AD/RW/MW bashing
1. The Lost Saviour

**Death's Last Prophecy**

_a Harry Daphne story_

—

**I. The Lost Saviour**

"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

\- Dumbledore

* * *

_If I cannot reach heaven, I will raise hell._

* * *

Harry Potter woke to ringing of the Grimmauld doorbell. Groaning he rolled over to glance at the alarm clock: 03:00 a.m.

_What the fuck. _He ignored it, willing the noise to die away.

It didn't.

Instead, it was replaced with knocking - firm but not ear-splitting enough to wake the neighbors.

He rolled the blanket over his head, adoring its insufflation of all noise.

The banging stopped for a moment, and Harry relishing dived deeper into his warm pillow slowly slipping back into dreamland.

_RINGGG!_

Pissed he jumped out of bed, slipping on his glasses and grabbing his stalk-white wand; stumbling towards the door in the dark.

When the foyer light came into view, he took the steps two at a time - angrier than all hell. With a flick, he wordlessly force the door open; pausing in the opening ready than all hell to berate the unwelcome guest.

"O'Connor you better**-.. " **surprised by the unexpectedly petite feminine figure in his doorway, Harry pauses.

EEP!* The figure jumps back stammering "M-Mr. Potter, I'm sorry to disturb you this late an hour but it's important."

Eyebrow raised he glances around her at an empty street confused. "O..'Kay.. I'm sorry but who are you?"

She sticks out a hand; "Olivia Fortescue, my mom- "

"Runs the Ice Cream Shop in Diagon, right?" He says returning the shake.

Olivia nods, and Harry smiles - "Met her a few times before the War; always treated me like any other customer.."

She smiles back, but then it slowly loses its spark, face scrunching to the verge of tears. Harry starts to feel a bit unnerved.

"Mr. Potter..." she lets out a shaky breath. "I haven't seen my mother for 3 days; and.. I think Antonin Dolohov killed her."

* * *

The Atrium is packed full; just another Tuesday for the Ministry of Magic. But I'm fuming mad, and it shows on my face so the crowd parts like the Red Sea.

People are literally diving out of my way to clear space, even the guards at the Security checkpoint shut their mouths tight as I walk by.

_Ohh_ I'm to strangle that fucking pencil pusher until he pops like a cherry. This is the last time The Department of Magical Law Enforcement holds back crucial information from me.

Twice now I've had to hear about attacks after the fact.

_What the fuck is Spinnet thinking?_

_Dolohov is supposed to be dead for fucks sake, if he doesn't come to me for this... _

An elevator opens, and with one look people are running out of it - I stride in and turn to a crowd of curious people staring back at me.

In return, I scowl. I hate having to act for these assholes - wasting time for him to prepare.

No doubt, someones already sent a Patronus ahead.

I actually picture for a moment what Spinnet getting ready for my onslaught entails, I could use a good fight.. _no, too messy and public._

Instead, right when the door closes I vanish.

* * *

Marcus Spinnet almost wets himself when I appear at his desk, my hand is on his throat before he can even move. I snap him against the wall, and he chokes hard - a moment of regret bites across my tongue as I know Kingsley will be disappointed.

But I'm pissed and the Auror Commander sounds like a reasonable release for my rage.

To his credit, Spinnet attempts a wandless Accio of his wand; and for a moment I'm impressed.. not really. I snap it in half without even looking, and the defeat in his eyes is breathtakingly joyous.

"Morning Marcus" I greet him while throwing a compulsion ward against the door. No doubt someone will walk toward his office soon, and I'd rather rumors of this didn't spread.

"..P-Potter" he chokes out - and I release his throat. Immediately he falls to the ground, gasping for air; recovering he spits at me. "Your dead man walking Potter, attacking an Auror Commander - that'll get you a Dementors Kiss!"

I scoff; "Like you'd tell a soul about this - you'd be embarrassed, and out of a job by the Mid-Week Sessions." He growls but doesn't quip back which strikes me as odd, usually, we have to go three rounds of banter before I can get to my reason for coming.

_A setup? Misinformation by way of a cute girl to draw me out..._

I send out a detection pulse that reverberates around the room.. nothing unusual.

_No, it's not his style - Spinnet likes the political route._ He's an astute fuck with enough dirt on the Wizengamot to fill Azkaban. Which is why he sits behind that pretty desk, and Kingsley can't give his worthless ass the boot.

But lucky for me, I'm his worst adversary - as the Golden Boy of Britain; politically I'm untouchable. And wand for wand, if his slight quivering in fear is anything to show for he doesn't stand a chance.

So, the Auror Commander of Britians most powerful Department is my little bitch - and it's time to make him squeal.

"Dolohov" I spit his name, and Marcus's eyes go wide. "When were you going to tell me? After the third death? Fourth?"

He shakes a little, then grit's his teeth - "It happened so fast, the alarms went off too late. By the time we got to the Burial Site, his body was already gone."

I absorb this for a moment, at best we're dealing with rogue dark magician; at worst there's a Necromancer who survived the purges.

Now that's some dark history very few souls know about it - I doubt even the Sacred Twenty-Eight have tomes on it.

Luckily I have one of the oldest families going back to the dawn of Wizards; and there's very little we Potters haven't wrote down.

"Is it Inner Circle?" He shakes his head and stands "We'd know. I have eyes on Malfoy, MacNair, rest were nowhere near this. I don't even think this is Death Eater..."

I tilt my head at the lack of evidence to support that statement, he relents.

"There were Runic Markings on scene, Mysteries has a few theories but we had to destroy most the evidence before we could go further. Everything was too public, didn't want Media picking up on Dark Magic murders in Diagon - we're supposed to be in peacetime for bloody sake."

_Fuck! _He just cost us our one lead, all-cause he's afraid of a bad News Cycle. But, I let it go with a small grin - no doubt Kingsley already laid into him. Now I understand why the little shit's being so forthcoming; he's afraid one more mistake like this he'll get sacked.

"In fact.. how'd you find out?" he questions, confused.

"The daughter, she got through to one of your's" I shake my head at his incompetence and Marcus says nothing against it.

"Alright, who's liaison at Mysteries - I'm sure they memory charmed the scene before destroying it." Memory charms work great, you can sit in a Pensieve all day and look around a crime scene. But it costs you all the hard evidence, no Reversal, Detection, or Masking Charms: just the memory.

_Well, Muggles solve crimes without them; why can't I?_

He grins, and I briefly feel the need to Bombardia that smirk off his face.

"V and X," then the fucker actually laughs "Good luck!"

With a growl, I disappear from the office - but not without charming the wall color to bright Pink. He'll have a hard time explaining that to his understudies. In fact, by end-of-day, I bet most Senior Aurors will know what happen and why without my help.

I grin as I re-appear in the darkened halls of Level Seven - it's little comfort however as I mentally prepare the ensured argument I'm about to have with the two most ungrateful cunts in all of Britian.

V and X, this day turned sour real fast. I could make them talk; or dive into their minds and retrieve the memories myself. But Mysteries is the one Department I really don't wanna go to war with; after all, they have the Nostradamus Lights.

Walking these halls throws me back in time eight years; sending a cold shiver down my back.

Merlin what a day that was, Voldemorts dead; the war looks like it's over, and everyone's celebrating. Yet not even five hours later; Kingsley and I are battling for our lives in the belly of Mysteries - a ten-hour blood bath that the public would never hear about.

In fact, there are only three souls alive that know what happened down here... and we're taking it to our graves.

Maybe I should explain..

* * *

After the war, we tried to round-up most of the fuckers on the Orders hit-list: going after Inner Circle first. We thought it was gonna be easy, a piece of cake - with the war landsliding towards our side things were looking up.

We knew most the Ministry was innocent, just biding their time during Voldemorts reign - following orders because they're scared.

Better to put someone else's head on the block than your own; had become the Ministry Motto.

So, we took over the Departments one at time; and the people rallied with us.

We blew through the Upper Level Departments in minutes; Minister of Magics Office, Support Staffing, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, Wizengamot Administration Services - no problem.

The lower we went the worse it Got; Oblivator Headquaters, International Magical Office of Law, Floo Network Authority, Portkey Network Authority, Department of Magical Game and Sports, Department of International Magical Cooperation... we started to lose some people, and most of the Aurors had to hold back to apprehend some of the various Voldemort supporters.

It wasn't long before it was just Kingsley, me, and ten other Veteran Aurors taking a staircase down into the Department of Mysteries. I had a nagging sensation that something was missing, there was some sort of piece of the puzzle that wasn't fitting in..

Where was Jugson, Macnair, Rodolphus? Rookwood? Avery? Inner Circle: Voldemorts most trusted. All the fuckers I wanted to personally put to death after the hell they made my friends go through. But the adrenaline pumping through my veins clouded my thoughts and made me think I was invincible, an unstoppable power that could defeat anybody.

I quickly learned otherwise, Inner Circle weren't Voldemorts most trusted for no reason; fuckers really put up a fight. That blood bath in the Hallways of Mysteries lasted hours, and was the most exhausting battle of my life.

In the end some escaped, some gave-up, but most fought to the death in the Department of Mysteries, and took the rest of my men with them. I personally paid back their deaths with some interesting killings of my own.

Nott Sr. was especially fun - helping to enlargen my lightning bolt scar so it now travels over my eye - I returned the favor through his heart.

It took Poppy a couple of days to get that bleeding to stop, minor Dark Magic she tells me; the Amesticulis Curse - unmendable and unfixable. I don't correct her it was really the Lumada Negina; elemental lighting redirected - she worries enough as is.

I can't blame her, I've spent a majority of my time since Hogwarts chasing down Dark Wizards and Dark Creatures. But what else was Harry Potter going to do after having spent the last eighteen years in a game of life and death? Sit around, live a comfy life in a mansion the size of a football stadium; drinking away my war-hardened nerves?

Naw, not my style - my spartan room at 12 Grimmauld Place is good enough for me. Course I did hire some House Elf help to keep the place tidy, Kreacher's been more receptive since I became Lord Black but he's as old as Aberforth and can't keep up anymore. So despite his disappointment, Pinky and Dobby now help man the Black fort when I'm away.

And away I often am - between tracking down the rest of Riddle's army and doing Auror's jobs for them; I spend a great deal of time in courtrooms testifying. The first trial since Riddle's death was front page of the Prophet for weeks. Top of the fold: a moving picture of me vouching for Malfoy Sr. while telling the galling story of a man twice deceiving Tom Riddle. Which earned him a comfy house arrest for three years, probation for four with assets seized.

Sometimes I regret not pushing for a year in Azkaban, especially nights when the nightmares of Malfoy's Mansion resurface - but Hermione tells me I did the honorable service. Which, when it involves Malfoy Mansion I'll do whatever she says.

In the trial right after; with yet again my testimony, Malfoy Jr. got off with a slap on the wrist: probation with time under an authoritative figure - now he works for Kingsley. The new Minister tells me having a former Conservative supporter at his side eases the tension between the two parties - and Draco's become an excellent back-channel negotiator for our side. But, I still check in every once in a while with some offensive occulemency probings to make sure he's staying a good soldier. After all, he's still Malfoy; I don't trust a word out of his mouth. It was a condition I enstated of his release; bound with an unbreakable vow making it legal. Course, nobody would tell me off even if it wasn't.

It's amazing the shit the Ministry turns a blind eye at when it comes to me these days. I sometimes wonder if they think I'll be the next Dark Lord; afraid to be on my bad side just in case. Admittedly, sometimes I give fruit to the thought. Life would be so much easier if I could just kill anyone whenever I want.

These bigoted cunts would snap into shape _real _quick.

Just once I'd like to crucio Baron Boscawen in open Session when he rants on and on about half-bloods being of lower esteem than the pure-blood heritages; my wand rolls over my fingers with the curse on the edge of my tongue. But then I remember that his wife; Baroness Boscawen-Maltravers (_that's a mouthful),_ is his third cousin and I just laugh it off. This culture makes me want to throw-up, he's basically fucking his own blood.

Oh well, I may have_ saved_ the Wizarding World but I don't aim to fix it. That would take a surefire act of god, or at the very least a good purge. And this brings me back to that appealing idea of Dark Lording for a while.

Twenty-Six years old, the elder wand in my hand, the cloak of invisibility at my back; and the blood of two prodigies in my veins. Very few, if any; can stand against me and they all know it.

In fact after we-.. let's be honest; after _I _demolished most of Voldemort's Inner Circle and sent the rest into hiding - word spread really quick in the Ministry and suddenly I was being summoned to court for Crimes against Wizardry. I guess they were afraid of fighting me, so the pureblood Riddle supporters that were left felt they needed to take one last stab at the boy who lived; in the form of a legal fight. So pathetic, like they don't realize in order to order Judicial punishment; someone had to apply the punishment. Magically binding or not, I don't think Azkaban could hold me for long, even if they somehow got me there.

Luckily, Kingsley shut that shit down real quick though, promoting me to pro tempi Magistrate.

I don't even know what that means, but apparently those who know Merlin's ancient laws do; and to them it holds quite some significance. As I was later explained; it means a man appointed to defend the People. A Commander of the Army with no oversite, and no judicial review - who leads all in time of War. The last time such a position was invoked was during the the time of Romans; I don't really know much Hermione knows all about it though. She tells me it's a very honorable position, but made it very clear the last guy to hold it was stabbed in the back by his fellow Senators in open court, because he never gave it up.

And somehow that half-cooked idea worked because two hours later they were still too busy arguing with each other about "Founder Laws" to get back their original point of the Session, and the Minister concluded the vote in a landslide 11-89.

The next day, those same eleven were never seen from again; funny how it all worked out huh?

Later when I asked Kingsley what army exactly was I leading as pro tempi Magistrate, he very smugly responded; "The Army of One: you."

* * *

Back to the present; I face the door that twelve years ago I stood in front of with my friends when we stormed the Ministry in our Fifth Year. Man I wish I could go back to that moment and just tell my hormonal, confused, easily manipulated self to turn around and go back home. Course, knowing myself I would tell_ future me_ to fuck off; then throw a weak expelliarmus. Merlin was I a wimp, afraid of killing, afraid of kissing a girl, afraid of dancing in front of a crowd - a grin pricks my face at the thought, but I clamp it down with a dry swallow reaching out for the door.

It swings open without resistance, as all doors in the Ministry do for me, after all, I'm officially the "Magistrate for Magical Britain". With a calming breath, I march forward - in my mind the ghosts of our younger selves follow behind me.

Just like before, the room is large; circular. Everything is black including the floor and ceiling - identical, unmarked, handle-less black doors set at intervals around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles whole flames burn blue. Their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor so that it looks as though there's dark water underfoot.

Younger Harry was intimidated by this room, lost in the sea of doors looking for the way out.

Me, now? With a flick of my bright white wand, the door I'm looking for burns bright blue - and I stride towards it purposefully.

I don't take a step further, a green light flashes out of the corner of my eye - and I feel a sharp pain against my side.

Then nothing, for a breathtakingly long moment.

Darkness descends from all sides, and I'm confused for far longer than I've ever been in my life.

This shouldn't be possible, no.. I know for a fact it's impossible. There's too many charms on my cloak, personally engraved by the smartest witch I know to react when deadly curses come at me. And for the deadliest curse of all I came up with the most foul proof method of protection possible: a Fidelius charmed bullet proof vest.

Invisible, undetectable, and most importantly unbreakable - it can absorb the impact of a .20 Caliber Rifle, most certainly (as we muggleborns decided to test) can handle the Avada Kedavra which has only the impact of a .8mm handgun; and most crucially the vest absorbs the curse just like any other object - the perfect defense. I've tested it in every scenario possible, twice; been in most of them once and it's held up..

Why fail now?

I don't get the chance to think on this as suddenly, a powerful vision slams into my mind throwing me to the ground, I feel my back slam against the marble floor but my mind is lost in the vision - I see Ginny flying on her Nimbus 2000, she's younger like during our fifth year. Still beautiful, athletic with her freckled complexion that matches artistically with her fiery red hair. Her hairs tied back into a Dutch braid, which I stare at confusedly. Ginny never ties her hair back, she likes it to flow with the wind while she's flying. Then I looked at her closer, she's got a smaller nose; a sharper chin - but what catches my attention is her eyes: their bright green like mine.

I don't get long before she takes off from view, and another person comes forward; a little older boy - for a moment I think I'm staring into a mirror. But just like with pseudo-Ginny, I see the differences.

Pseudo-me has dimples, and a few freckles - not overtly obvious but just a few on the rounded cheeks. His eyes are green, but his eyebrows are thinner. He takes off after pseudo-Ginny with a wide smile; when the last person comes into view.

My breath in-takes sharply, it's so clear as day - even my unintelligent mind can see the connection. If me and Ginny were to have a black haired, wild grinning; mischievous child this would be it. I can't even begin to understand how I know, but I just do - the face, chin, eyes, hair, everything is me and Ginny.

Now I understand, as I watch the three glide together in the open air: these are my kids, my children with Ginny. My thoughts are wild, and random - my brain completely stunned. Too stunned to realize someone has appeared next to me - though with the darkness around us, the black coated being would be hard to see.

After a moment I take notice, but do nothing - he can wait, I wanna enjoy the moment. Right now, this is all I want - to stare at a future I'll never get.

What a life I would have had, but what a life I've lived.

My short, adventure-filled life - _man, what a journey._

But what a disappointing end, I mean really; after everything..

Surviving the Dursleys after years of abuse.

Surviving Quirell, and the Voldemort in his head.

Saving the Philosophers Stone.

Surviving Lockhart's multiple accidental attempts to kill me.

Defeating a Basilisk with a sword.

Defeating Tom Riddle Diary.

Saving Ginny.

Surviving dementors, and werewolves, and giant trees.

Solving a crime committed thirteen years ago.

Saving Lupin from himself.

Surviving a Death Eater attack.

Surviving a dragon, merpeople, and a maze.

Surviving a Death Eater in disguise.

Surviving Voldemort.

Surviving a dementor attack.

Ridiculed by the public.

Misguided by the people I trust the most.

Fighting death eaters and losing Sirius.

Beating Bellatrix Lestrange, but watch her escape.

Fighting Voldemort, and almost lose.

Supported by the public, but now I'm 'egotistical'.

Surviving girls.

Fighting Tom's traps, only to find out the prize is fake.

Being betrayed, and watch the strongest man I know die.

Losing purpose.

Almost starving to death.

Almost freezing to death.

Left by my best friend.

Die.

Come back.

Losing Mad-Eye, Remus, Tonks, Hedwig, and many many more..

All for this?

One lousy lucky shot in the back?

...

No.

I speak to _it_ without turning; "I know you, I've met you so many times we're old friends at this point." I chuckle, and_ it_ doesn't respond - suddenly anger rolls over me in a wave.

"You've taken.. so many people I've loved; so many people _way_ before their time it's not even fair..."

"Why?" I feel it, my rage rising and I don't stop it. I mean what's the worst that could happen? I'm already dead..

"Why is your goal to fuck over my life so royally, it's like you have a goddamn vendetta against me! Why!? What have I done wrong!? What did I do that was so bad!? Huh?"

_It_ doesn't respond, and I don't wait for an answer. It's time for_ it_ to listen to _me._

"I've done nothing but good my entire fucking life, I've worked harder than anyone to prevent death; to stop the War, to stop a man set to eradicate life itself!"

Tears are rolling down my face now, but my rant flows out unrestricted - for too long it's been pent up inside; and now I have the chance to take it all out on my worst enemy - nothings going to stop me.

"I even returned him to you! Ha, what a beautifully poetic syncope: I hand-delivered the one soul who you were never going to touch, and **still**, you can't help me out. God-.. dammit! What more do you want!"

I turn towards the being next to me: _Death._

That word doesn't even begin to describe the galling wash of void next to me; and fear crawls up my throat but I swallow it down.

The dark black translucent cloak hangs in the air, floating right next to me without care - not even acknowledging my presence.

Just watching my future children, analyzing them closely like I was before.

I point the way _it's_ looking; "You can't even give me that, not even a small taste of life! I had no childhood, no upbringing, no normal Hogwarts experience, I had to live through my friends to feel any type of family. Now I'm that close to having one, and you take that away too.."

I'm crying hard now, as I stare at _it, him, _whatever.. waiting for an answer. For some explanation of, anything resembling.. closure. I'm not even asking for much, just one reason why I had to do it all.

It waves a darkness encased hand, and the images of my children disappear. Then it pauses, I breathe shakily; rubbing away the tears from my eyes.

We stand there for minutes, maybe hours - I can't tell; finally, I ask the only question I need an answer to; I _demand _it.

"Why me?"

I know_ it_ can hear me, I can feel it's patience for me to accept death; but I will not bow before I get my answer.

_**The Chosen One - **Death answers._

I can hear it in my mind, I can feel the presence there - maybe it's always been there and I've just never known it. Death is warm, inviting; its voice calm and pleasing, but I don't yield to it.

I know my enemy, my true enemy - disguised in comfort and joy to hide his true intentions.

"That's not an answer, why **ME. **I'm nothing special, never was never will be; I got lucky, I had help. There was **NO **reason it had to be **ME**, so why! Tell me why I had to give everything up! Tell me why bastards who rape and kill get to live their lives and I don't! Tell **ME!**"

**_The Wand._**

I'm taken aback, confused - slowly pulling out the Elder Wand from my back pocket I twiddle it in my fingers. _What does he fucking want it back? _I hold it out towards Death who doesn't move.

**_The Cloak._**

The fabric of the cloaks is suddenly much heavier against my back, and I shift it to the front - feeling the woven texture between my index and thumb.

_"_I don't understand..." I whisper to it, as it shifts to move. Suddenly I'm more nervous than a minute ago, when I was yelling at _Death_ itself.

**_The Stone._**

I feel a weight grow in my pocket, and reaching in I pull out the Resurrection Stone; _I.. dumped this in the forest.. how..?_

Death turns towards me; and I feel the eyes that have see all of_ life_; and all of _death_ stare back at me. My words suddenly seem very small compared to what this _being_ has seen, and will see.

**_Master of Death_**

It leans forward, and the Hallows eagerly float towards _it. _Like a dog welcoming home it's Master.

For a moment they shift in place rotating, then slowly join together molding into one piece like a ball of clay.

Death lifts it's cloak over the ball, and it vanishes into the Void for a moment. Then there's a bright light; so blinding in the darkness I close my eyes but can still see it.

Then it fades and I glance around the void before looking down at my feet, before me is a ring. It's simplistic, a heavy onyx black circular ring. It floats upward, and I open my palm for it to land.

The touch of it is warm, and I can feel power radiating off it in waves. I stare at it, rolling it around my palm - there's no inscription; not even a symbol.

_What now?_

As I ask this, I can hear the lulling whisper of Death.

**_The Chosen One.. _**

I close my eyes as _it _speaks.

**_Five will heed Deaths call_**

**_Each of the house, one with all_**

**_Ambitions daughter walks alone_**

**_Forbidden love takes the throne_**

**_Chosen One travels to the darkest place_**

**_To raze, or save the forgotten race_**

**_Peverall son paves the trail_**

**_Light and Dark combined prevail_**

**_The bravest heaves a final breath_**

**_And lives a life worse than death._**

_Death _pauses, and I scramble to understand what I just heard.. another _Prophecy?_

Suddenly, _it _shifts to move - rising to full height towering over me. With a wave of its cloaked arm the ring spins from my hand and forces itself onto my finger. For a moment it glows, then shrinks to perfect size - grasping my skin tight.

Warmth washes over me in a wave, making goosebumps prickle my skin - as quickly as its there, it's gone.

Then the most absurd thing of this entire experience happens; _Death _smiles at me. I don't know how I can tell with the lack of light to make out a face, but the humourous joy coming from the void in front of me is palpable.

**_Chosen One heed my warning._**

**_Fight the storm that keeps on growing._**

**_The hardest battle, to the strongest soldier._**

**_Time will tell who grows older._**

**_Fix what has yet to be broken._**

**_Light begins in the darkest moment._**

I feel _Death _leave with that final message; not entirely but the absence of an endless void and despairing nothing is fading away.

The darkness slowly surrounds me, and with it, I lose all feeling - leaving from the place I'd been to somewhere.. new.

When the Void finally leaves me, I can feel light shine against my eyelids; a slow breeze rustling against my skin.

It's unreasonable for such a small feeling to be so entirely joyous, but the wind itself is literally a breath of fresh air. I don't know how long I was dead, but I know it's been too long since I've felt alive.

The noise then suddenly hits me in a wave, and I open my eyes.

Crowds of people are passing me by, walking with purpose and determination; I'm level to their knees taking in their bundled up clothing.

The air is cold and smogged with the smell of burnt coal. The sound of a train whistle blares against my eardrums, and I wince against it.

Finally, I notice my surroundings; it's King Cross Station, I can feel it in my bones - in fact I know this platform. It doesn't take long for me to spot the odd outfits mingled between regular muggle clothing.

Wizard families pushing trolleys filled to the brim with trunks and familiars.

I smile, it's been a long time since I've seen the Hogwarts departure ritual and I'm reminded of all those times with the Weasleys rushing to make it just before the train left.

With a deep breath, I aim to stand up.. wait, I'm already standing.. why is everyone so tall?

I look down at my hands, their small, soft even - and I take in my outfit: hand-me-down shirt, an old overcoat of Dudley's; and ripped jeans that have seen much better days.

It's then that it dawns on me; I'm a young kid again.

_fuck.._

* * *

Read and Review; Chapter Two will be out next week!


	2. Godric's Hallow

_I do not own, nor will ever own the Harry Potter Series - or any of its subsidiaries._

**Death's Last Prophecy**

_a Harry Daphne story_

—

**II. Godrics Hollow**

* * *

_"It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends."_

_\- Dumbledore_

* * *

Harry for the first time in a long time, felt like a lost little boy; unsure, helpless, and afraid. Which was ironic, seeing as he _was _a lost little boy.

_What to do.._ it was times like this that one thought always went through Harry's mind; _what would Hermione do?_

Her voice echo'd through his head; _"Honestly Harry it's simple: find out what year it is!"_

Walking over to a newsstand he pulled out an Evening Standard peering at the date: _Sept. 1st, __1991\. _His eyes bulged at the date, _that means I'm ten.. __Alright, now what?_

Again, Hermione's voice admonished him - _"Now, you need to see what the world is like! Is this YOUR past, or an entirely NEW one? I would suggest visiting Godrics Hallow, see if your parent's place is still standing."_

That thought had Harry reeling for a second, _what if his parents were still alive?_

"Hey kid!" Harry was knocked from his thoughts from a voice to his side, "You buy or readin'?"

The Newsstand owner glared at him menacingly, and Harry felt sheepish - putting the paper back down and walking away to an empty section of the platform.

_Godrics Hallow.._ how would he get there? He needed a wand... wandless apparition was possible, but with this new body he didn't want to risk splinching.

Then he felt a sharp grip on his finger, and he glanced down at the ring clutched tightly to his index, for a moment feeling the power surging through it. It felt exactly like the Elder Wand did, only.. without that insatiable blood lust.

He decided to test it, holding up his hand in the direction of an empty platform space - and thought of a freezing charm. Immediately the area started to frost, and turn into black ice. _Wow, okay.. no need for a wand; does that mean it contains the other powers of the Hallows?_

Before he had a chance to test this, he noticed a Copper making his way over - "ya alrigh' kid? You look lost..".

"Sorry yeah, do you know where Platform 3 is? I'm supposed to meet me rents there.." he lied with an innocent smile.

The Policeman scratched his balding head, "Loads of lost kids today.." he mumbled to himself, "You take those stairs up, and walk bout three trains over - and take it down a level it'll be on your right; follow the signs."

Harry nodded quickly; taking off the direction he pointed: "Thanks!" dashing off he made way up the stairs then, when he was out of sight closed his eyes; _now or never._

With a sharp crack, he disappeared from the Station.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes, he was standing in the wet lane of a cloud-covered sky. Cottages stood on either side of the narrow road and Harry, for a moment, forgot where his parent's place was. _It's been too long.._

He gazed at the front porches, and the memories slowly came back to him - him and Hermionie visiting here all those years ago in the snow-covered winter.

_The church... the graveyard... the house.. ah!_

Wasting no time, he apparated to the end of the street; passing the church - then down another street till finally, he saw the house in the distance.

Already, at first glance he knew it was in rubbles; the hedges had grown wild in the years since their death and the grass was untrimmed.

Most of the cottage was still standing, though entirely covered in dark ivy, but the right side of the top floor had been blown apart; that, Harry knew was where the curse had backfired. He stood at the gate, gazing up at the wreck of what had been a cottage just like those that flanked it.

He touched the gate, and a sign rose out of the ground in front of him - and Harry turned to look away; he'd read it the last time he was here with Hermione. He didn't need a reminder of what happened ten years ago.

But then, as he turned to leave - he noticed something out of the corner of his eye; the sign was.. different.

He read it over slowly; his eyes widening and heart beating faster over each line:

On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981,

James Potter sacrifice his life

to save his wife and son.

This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left

in its ruined state by request of Lily and John Potter

as a monument to James

and as a reminder of the violence

that tore apart their family.

_Lily... my mom, is ALIVE?! __Who's John? __How did dad kill Voldemort? _questions rattled through his brain, and he felt his breath become rapid and shaky.

Harry Potter was on the verge of a panic attack.

_What happened that night? Why did mom survive?_

For a while he stood there, thinking; mind racing impossibly fast to even process over. All the while, he didn't notice the group slowly making towards him - wands set against his back.

The lane became more crowded as each second passed until finally, he sensed the magical potency leaking into the air..

_ohh, not good.._

He turned slowly; as though he was looking around - then locked eyes with about ten wizards each with their wands pointed at him. Eight of them wore blazing-red hit wizard cloaks rustling in the non-existent wind; if the situation wasn't so tense Harry would have actually laughed at their theatrics.

However, his eyes drifted over the two in the middle; dark purple cloaks - with bright white masks: Auror masks. Not just any Auror masks either, Rapid Response Tactical Unit masks - the fastest, crudest dueling wizards around.

_really, not good.._

One of them walked a bit more forward, regarding the boy - who innocently raised his hands above his head. After a moment, finally one of them lowered their wand; "Relax it's just a kid".

The others nodded, and lowered their wands as well... all but one; the tall purple-cloaked Auror closest to him held his wand steady; "Get on your knees kid! Hands locked above your head!"

Harry's rolled his eyes; and did as the man said - _honestly, what the hell is his problem? Is it illegal to stare at a memorial in this world?_

Just as he was about to ask the arse what he wanted to do now; the man threw a fast dark red stunner at his face; _what the- !_

Harry's reflexes, from years of quidditch, and dueling battles; were luckily extremely fast and his shield charm was up before the stunner was halfway to him.

Just as it collided; the man next to his attacker gasped and jumped between the two; "Marcus what the hell!"

The man scowled and shoved his partner out of the way - only to find the street empty; his target gone.

Quickly, he threw a ward into the air - trying to stop the apparition before it finished; but after a moment he knew the boy was gone.

"FUCK!", Marcus rounded on his partner; his wand under his neck threateningly. "You just let him get away, Smith!"

Smith stared back at his partner; "Who the hell cares, it's just a kid; what- "

"That **_kid_** was a polyjuiced adult - you dumbass!"

Smith's eyes widened at realization; "Fuck!"

Marcus shook his head; "Muggleborns, honestly.." he turned and disappeared with a crack.

The rest of the Hitwizards followed suit, disappearing with him - and Smith sighed kicking the ground with his shoe. He moaned into the air, "Moody's going to kill me! Ugh.."

Just as he was about to take off after his squadron; the red stunner hit him hard in the back and the man fell like a sack of potatoes.

Harry, reappeared in the lane; not even moved from the spot he had been before.

_Huh, guess this thing does have the Invisibility Cloak to it.._

Harry regarded his ring impressed, "Still doesn't make up for the bullshit life there _Death_" he sighed into the open air. Walking over to the downed Wizard, taking relaxed steps all the way - he flash a finger at the Gate of his birth home; removing the tracing ward against it.

He should have been more careful, of course the ministry would put wards against a political target like the location of Voldemort's demise; a hotspot for a Death Eater attack.

It was a smart bait.. a little too smart, his eyes narrowed at the thought; this world was different from his, changes were dangerous - he couldn't risk not knowing what they were..

But how to learn the differences? He could read newspapers for a couple of months, sure, but Harry wasn't Hermionie - he'd rather make out with a Dementor than do that.

_Hmmm.._

He stood over the stunned wizard; flipping him over to take stock of his eyes - then an idea came to him.

_Ah! .. but fuck is this gonna hurt._

Breathing slowly; he took a moment to prepare - "_Legillimens_!"

* * *

Many miles away, Harry is sitting on the edge of the White Cliffs of Dover - shaking.

_Grindewald is alive, _

_Voldemort is alive and hiding,_

_ Sirius Black never went to prison and is married to Amelia Bones,_

_John Potter is the boy-who-lived,_

_and Severus Snape is dating my mom._

_..fuck._

There was only one that really mattered; _Grindewald is alive.. _that shook him to the bone.

Sure, he was trapped in a MACUSA Prison similar to Azkaban; trapped under powerful, deadly wards erected from the best of the best Warders around.

But... that's what they thought Azkaban was before Sirius Black escaped; an inescapable prison.

In fact, according to this world; Grindewald had escaped prison once before; _idiots!_

Nothing he could do about it now though..

_Voldemort is alive, but nobody knows where - _that was .. different in a sense from his own timeline; but not by much.

Apparently that night, Voldemort had killed James Potter; and stunned Lily to the ground - but when he went to kill John; the curse rebounded and severely injured Voldemort.

Lily watched this happen, and confirmed to the public he was still alive; in a press interview.

_That's why the Aurors were so on-guard.. the war never ended_

The rest of the information, Harry didn't even wanna think about right now - too much to process at once; he would work on it later.

Right now, he needed to move - to make a plan, really he needed a hot shower and a soft bed. _But where to go?_

He sat thinking, then the answer came to him in the form of a forgotten home - _but first, I'll need some things.._

Standing up, the Cliffs of Dover echoed the snap of his apparition; gone with the breeze of the ocean.

* * *

The rain poured heavily onto the cobbles of Knockturn Alley, the darkness of the evening causing the looming buildings to appear as though they were suffocating the street below. The gas street lamps spluttered, the light they cast dissolving in the rain; falling hazily onto a skeletal cat that crouched in a doorway, slipping out a tongue to devour a morsel of rotten meat.

He appeared with a loud crack, like a clap of thunder, and with a painful yowl the cat leapt up and sprinted away, darting through the dark spaces. He watched it for a second, then with soft footsteps, trudged through the rusting water in the gutter.

His jacket was torn and stained with mud, and he pulled it closer as the rain-drenched him. He could see his destination, and he advanced as the lights in the window were snuffed out.

He reached the wooden door, above his head the sign creaked in the wind. He did not knock, but raised a hand and it shattered apart into a million pieces - he heard a loud familiar crack from within the wooden building, and then a yell of pain.

Harry smiled; and stepped into Borgin Burkes.

* * *

"Borgin why does it have to be like this?" Harry cocked his head as he walked around the back of the shop: it's tied up bleeding owner floating behind him.

An angry muffled response answered back, making Harry roll his eyes. "All I need is some Warding Stones and I'll be on my merry way" he smiled back at the man, who glared in return.

He continued down the aisles, strolling along each shelf taking his time to wander over the various items. He felt the magic radiating off most of them, foul cursed magic - some not even Dark just simply distasteful and dangerous.

It wasn't until twenty minutes later that he grew tired of searching, walking back to the front shop he spotted a familiar necklace and grinned widely bringing Borgin to stand in front of him.

Levitating the Opal Necklace out of its encasement, he floated it in the air between them - "How about this, I'll make it simple - tell me where you keep some _Flexulation Level III_ _Warding Stones_; or... I place this charming little Necklace right over your neck." Borgins eyes went wide in recognition of the necklace, but he paused staring at the boy - waiting for proof of threat..

Harry shook his head; "Tsk.. what a waste of life, and here I thought you were a reasonable man" he brought his hand forward, and the necklace slowly started to drift over Borgin's head. Just as it was about to tickle his hair, the man struggled against his binds - yelling into the gag for mercy.

The little boy smiled; and with swift motion cut the rope against the Shop-Owners mouth.

"Under the shelf, to your left - three down!" he yelled out, and Harry smiled - "Thank you, now was that so hard?"

With a quick flick of his finger - a red beam of light struck Borgin straight in the chest; and the man fell limp.

Harry stood over him, pointing a finger at his forehead - _Obliviate. _He dived into the man's mind, destroying all the memories of the past hour roughly and crudely; ensuring they could never be repaired or remembered ever again.

Then, he put the man to sleep; disappearing his bindings with a glance. With a flick of another finger the shop repaired itself - broken door pieces flying across the room; to fit together like a masterful puzzle.

Harry paid no mind however as he walked over to the indicated shelving; and lifted up four heavy Warding Stones - with a small grin he disappeared from the shop with a crack, at the same time the lights around the shop turned back on.

* * *

The muggles of Cardiff still called it "the Ambrosius House," even though it had been many years since the Ambrosius had lived there. It stood on a hill overlooking the village, some of its windows boarded, tiles missing from its roof, and ivy spreading unchecked over its face. Once a fine-looking manor, and easily the largest and grandest buildings for miles around, the Ambrosius House was now damp, derelict, and unoccupied.

The Cardiffs all agreed that the old house was "creepy". Ten years ago the house was lively, beautiful and full of strange people coming and going as they pleased; sometimes visiting the Village to eat and sleep at the Inn but always disappearing before long. The newcomers always wore strange clothing, and talked different languages; something that the older inhabitants of the Village still liked to discuss when topics for gossip were scarce.

But then one day, they stopped coming - and what seemed in almost an instant the house became the ruins it now is.

Harry stared up at the decrepit mansion with a remorseful sadness; it had been years since he'd stepped foot on this property - vowing himself never to return. But his situation was most dire, and the need for a roof and warm food was above all his first priority.

With a long sigh, he bit his thumb - placing its bleeding end against the imposing Iron Gate that stood before him. After a moment, he withdrew; sucking at the wound until it stopped bleeding.

For a long while, nothing happened - then all at once the area transformed; shifting and moving as one to something new.

The gates became polished and clear, looking brand new and well-tended. The trees surrounding the property grew life again, bushes and plants growing beneath them into full bloom. The path beneath him transformed into a cobble road, and the grass grew and turned green; a fresh mildew glossing over them.

Finally, the Gates swung open welcoming Harry in, and he walked up the path; watching as magic transformed the landscape back into its former glory. The main fountain sprung forth fresh water, the hydrangeas surrounding the mansion blooming once again; the black stained windows cleaning instantly as light blasted through them.

As Harry reached the massive front door, they burst open welcoming, stepping into the main entrance way he was greeted by five sharp cracks.

"Welcome Home Master Potter!" five voices chorused together, and Harry regarded the house-elves evenly.

"Thank you, it is good to be home" he looked towards the middle elf, and placed his hand out - with glee filled eyes the elf took forward and grabbed his hand placing it on his head. A small humming glow emanated between the two, then slowly faded away and Harry pulled back, the bonding now complete.

"Ah, Gaylia - thank you for taking care of Potter Manor during my absence" the elf smiled back brightly.

"I will be living here for now on, so please release the rest of the suspension charms on the property; and make sure any livestock we have is fed." the elf nodded diligently and disappeared.

Another elf stepped forward, and Harry repeated the process "Wamier - thank you, I will need some new supplies soon" he regarded his torn outfit.

"But first I need finances, I've been.. away from Britain for a long time and my accounts have been frozen. I need you to go to Gringotts and ask for Ragnok. Be discredit, and tell him he owes the Black Family a favour and to come here; have him bring a _Bloodeichen _with him" Harry paused, thinking.

"Also.. before you go write a piece of paper with the sentence: "The Potter Manor resides in Cardiff", and hand it to him then bring him here. I will be setting up a Fidelius Charm shortly, and he will need to read that sentence before coming here."

Wamier nodded fervently, then disappeared with a sharp crack - his next elf came forward; and he repeated the process of the last two.

"Agis - thank you, I need you to go to Hogwarts; confirm for me who the current staff is of all positions. Use magic if you have to but be descrite and do not get caught."

Agis nodded; and disappeared - Harry looked to his last two elves. He called them forward, and bonded them at the same time: "Plexy, and Marion - I will need you to work on a project for me. Learn all about the Polyjuice Potion; how to create it, it's time restraints, its ingredients, long term effects; everything there is to know. Write a report for me: short-hand, and brew a batch within the next month. In between the time for the project, you may resume your house duties; but you main priority will be the project."

The two elves nodded fervently, and disappeared - finally Harry let out a tired sigh. He had a long night ahead, the Fidelius wasn't necessarily a power-draining ward but rather mind consuming; the runes arithmetic alone takes about two hours before you get to the coding and scripture before finally applying _Fiunotine Memagik _better known as Alternate-Space magic to it.

But in the end, it would be worth it; so with a long breath he disappeared with a crack.

* * *

Three hours later Harry Potter trudged up the cobblestone path to his front door.

"Gaylia!" he called into the open air, the house-elf appearing before him.

"Do we have any potions onsite?"

The elf nodded, "Master Fleamont loved to make potions, Gaylia was his assistant; I can make any types of Potions for Master Harry."

Harry cocked his head; he had forgotten his Grandfather had made the Sleekezy Hair Potion - one of the many reasons their family was quite wealthy.

"Please bring me a Pepper-Up Potion, and maybe a Blemish Blitzer Potion. Has my guest arrived?" he asked, and the house-elf nodded again.

"Wamier has put him in the Dinning room, the nasty-Goblin brought other Goblins with him" Harry raised an eyebrow surprised, the elf was almost sneering.

"Thank you, that'll be all" he turned to continue into the manor walking between the massive grand columns supporting the vaulted ceilings.

Off the side of the Entrance Hall, the Dining room hosted a giant oak wood table sat with twenty seats on either side.

On one side of the table; facing towards the Entrance Hall sat about eight older Goblins; each dressed in highly expensive silked jackets.

Harry walked up to them, standing at the back of a gabled chair - hands resting on either side.

"Forgive me for taking up your time, I had- " he started, pulling the chair back to sit down.

The Goblin in the middle stood, and the rest of the Goblins stood with him then bowed - making Harry pause, his finger twitching nervously.

"_Chosen One_, there is no need for apologies; we have been awaiting your arrival for some time" Harry went wide-eyed, and swiftly slammed his hand against the table.

Silencing Charm, and Muffliato Charms erecting around the room - _DRACINMA FURIE! _He waved a finger in a delicate pattern, turning from a figure eight to five quick swishes before finally ending.

The doors around the hall slammed shut, the windows boarding over with a dark black tinge till finally they were left in darkness.

Harry waved a hand and the candles around the room came to life; erecting a soft glow between the Goblins and himself.

"How do you know?" His voice was dripped with venom, commanding their answer - and the Goblins felt the power of his wards squeeze their sides.

The middle Goblin raised his head, the others did not - "There is no need for hostility, _Chosen One_, do you think Wizards are the only species with Seers?"

Harry paused "I know of the Ancient Ones, the oldest of the Vampire Clans are in themselves Seers; I know of the Centaurs own form of Seer Magik.." his voice trailed off.

The Goblin nodded pleased; "We have much similar of our own, _Olim Videns - _the Bards of Three"

He regarded him shrewdly - "This explains nothing"

"We've heard this prophecy; made four days ago.." he passed a piece of paper across the table. "Our Seers believe you to be _involved_."

Harry took the paper, his hand shaky - it was the same as _Deaths_, but lacked the warning.

"Why do you believe this to be about me?" he feigned innocence.

"Peverall Family Line had only one such heir; our bookkeepers made sure of it - _John Potter; _the boy-who-lived has his own Prophecy, one spoken by a wizard seer."

"I've heard it.." _apparently in this world, the original Prophecy was general knowledge._

"We had believed him to be the _Chosen One, _that was until a few hours ago when.. your name appeared on that heir list" the Goblin paused and flicked his hand - the rest of the Goblins then sitting back down.

One of them, reached beneath the table - and pulled out a large thick book; withered with age but reeking of power.

"Never before has such a thing happened, our Records to change in such a way; Merlin himself created this _Magical Familiar Tome - _it's Magik is concrete, unchangeable. For such a thing to happen.. well, I'm sure you understand" Harry did, but he wasn't going to tell them that.

He grabbed the offered Book, already opened to a specific page; spinning it around to face him - and regarded it.

Following the line that went from Ignotus Peverell

to Linfred of Stinchcombe,

to Iolanthe Peverell,

to Hardwin Potter,

to Henry Potter,

to Fleamonth Potter,

to James Potter,

then finally John and Harry Potter.

He nodded; "That doesn't explain why you believe myself; and not John to be involved."

The Goblin took the book back, handing it to his companion; "The Seers believe that the Eldest son would- " Harry felt the wards tickle his back.

Harry cut him off; "Your lieing, I would refrain from trying to lie in my presence; I may not be as silver-tongued as a Slytherin, or as cunning as a Goblin but I am no fool."

He looked impressed at this; "Perhaps we should take a step back, my name is Ragnok Orcslayer - Commander of the British Goblin Forces; and Oath Keeper of Gringotts."

It was Harry's turn to be impressed; "I've heard your name before from Albus Dumbledore, he speaks highly of you."

"As he should;" Ragnok grinned greedily, "You are right, we are simply guessing - the Elders, and myself believe John Potter to.. not have the tenacity, nor magical power to be capable of being: _The Chosen One_."

"We refrained from speaking to him until we were sure he was the only such Descendent from the Peverall Line, something that obviously was wise. This Prophecy is dangerous - so many unknown factors, it is.. unnerving."

Harry cocked his head; "And the other Prophecy is not?"

Ragnok shook his head; "Dark Lords may rise and fall, but forgotten races.. well.. you clearly know of one such race to fit that catergory."

The black haired boy nodded; indeed there were a few lines of the Prophecy that intrigued him, but he didn't have time to dwell - right now he needed to focus.

Really what he needed was allies, people to trust.

The Goblins, while having their own agendas and reasons were more than capable of keeping secrets - especially when it benefitted their own interests.

"Perhaps, I am the Chosen One - what will you do?"

Ragnok smiled; "Assist you.. financially - unfortunately there isn't much more we could do... that I could offer..

My army is strong, but Wizards are stronger; countless wars most regrettably have proven this to us."

The Goblins seemed to grimace at this but said nothing - Harry regarded all of them.. slowly coming to a decision.

"I am the Chosen One" he stated, taking a step backwards he flicked his hand upward. The room instantly was thrown into darkness, and when the Goblins could see again - they saw nothing, the room was empty; void of everything but soft light.

A voice echoed throughout the darkness, crawling up their spines into their ears; making the battle-hardened old Goblins shiver in fear for the first time in a long time.

"Death himself has chosen me to come back to the world of the living, for what I do not know - but mark my words when Death Champions someone, he is never wrong."

"There is a War coming, not just to Wizards but to all life - I have seen it, I have survived it, and I will Win it; again."

"If the Goblins wish to align themselves with me, I will ask but one thing - forge me a Weapon more powerful than ever before; bring me a weapon forged by the Goblins of Old that will challenge even Death himself."

"I will give you one year; bring me this Weapon and I will save our World; for the better with Goblins at my side - this I promise."

Finally, the darkness faded - and the room returned to normal - light shining through the windows making the Goblins squint.

They stared at the boy across from them, each one whispering between themselves before Ragnok finally turned to regard him; "It will be done, one year from today I will bring you what you ask."

Harry nodded, appeased.. _now, time to make a plan._


	3. Diabolical Scheming

I do not own, nor will ever own the Harry Potter Series - or any of its subsidiaries.

Death's Last Prophecy

a Harry Daphne story

—

III. Diabolical Scheming

* * *

"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

\- Dumbledore

* * *

Gellert

Bleak optimism was his forte, even in youth, to expect failure at every turn was his branded motto.

But for his life to turn head so swiftly was excruciatingly disheartening.

He should of expected it though, once Albus learned he had gotten hold the Elder wand, it was only a matter of time.

His bad luck had started with the Americans.

Unlike their British counterparts, they were not so easily persuaded; stubborn right bastards the lot of them. He had promised power, wealth, and infamy - yet they wouldn't sway.

It mattered not, they were sheep before a lion.

His escape was preordained the moment they left him alive.

Albus was not here, hiding away in his ivory tower back at Hogwarts where none could touch him.

It was their last mistake.

The Guard was little work, Imperiused with a glance; he handed over his wand then jumped out the window.

His next task was the hardest, trying to leave.

They were smart, Gellert had to admit, the warding schematic was a work of art.

Fidelius warding stones, grafted into the foundation, fed off the other inmates - unlimited power.

Could not be overpowered, changed, altered, destroyed, or even found.

They thought it an unsolvable puzzle, but they forgot one crucial piece - it rested on land.

He knew it would hurt, painfully so - magic was a muscle, not physical; but mental. It strained, weaved, and pulled just like anything else.

And when used to accomplish something above its own strength; was excruciatingly painful.

Painful, but possible.

For generations, they would talk about Gellerts escape as an extraordinary display of magic.

But for the guards, and prisoners who resided on the now floating island; it was a death sentence.

With one last look, from outside the Prison wards; Gellert let go of his hand - and watching the mountain of earth crash back into the water - miles of land shaking around him.

Nose trickling with blood, he gave a playful smile; and vanished.

* * *

Harry

Harry stared at the store window, his emotions rolling over in waves; so much so, the air around him shimmered with magic. People were starting to notice but had yet to approach him - wary of what might happen.

When Harry finally realized his surroundings; standing to the side of the busiest street in Diagon Alley - he chastised himself for his immaturity.

Though, when you see your childhood friend - you're familiar to boot; with a chain around her neck: something in a man snaps, nobody could blame him.

With a growl, he turned away; walking towards the grand Marble building in the middle of the alley. Really, he wanted to just turn around and blow the brains out of the shop owner - but he knew in this new world, with his new plans he had to be more discreet.. more Slytherin.

A few hours later, Harry watched as the Goblins bought the store property from underneath Eeylops Owl Emporium; relishing from across the street when the Owner was rather harshly shoved out of his own shop.

He wasn't keen to use up political capital for something so trivial; but he remembered in his own time Eeylop supported the Pureblood cause and was proficient in tracking down muggle-borns using Owl tracking charms.

Figuring it was worth the effort after Ragnok assured him the business title would fall under better management in its next Ownership.

If Harry couldn't already tell, the Goblins were quite happy on listening to the Chosen One and acting on his word.

Especially after the stocks that he 'predicted' would rise in the muggle world were already returning profits tenfold.

When the coast was clear, Harry took to the emptying shop - only a single guard Goblin on duty, who discreetly let him by; and slipped within.

His heart soared as he picked up his oldest friend, smiling as she nibbled at his fingertips.

"Hey, Hedwig", he coed at her before walking out of the store returning to his shopping list.

* * *

(One Month Later)

Harry tossed and turned in his bed, a gleam of sweat glinting off his skin in the low moonlight.

He woke up gasping, the fear reflecting off his face - sitting up scrambling around the sheets he felt nothing then paused; waking up from the nightmare. Harry laid back, trying to get his breathing under control, scrubbing his eyes of the slumber and running a hand through his damp hair.

Sighing, he flung the covers back and stumbled into the bathroom, washing his face and neck of the grime that came with bad dreams.

Casting a tempus, he saw it was just after three in the morning. Harry sighed, he was too wired to go back to sleep now. Maybe a nightlight fly around the manor would settle him for a few more hours of slumber.

Decision made, he grabbed a pair of jeans and a jumper from the dresser, pulling them on as he walked out the door. He paused in the hallways, freeing his head from the wool and hopped for a bit as he struggled to pull a leg through the trainers. He headed for the stairs and let himself out the back door before summoning his broom.

Catching the Cleansweeper with one head, and mounted it with the other - he took off into the night sky soaring higher and higher till the air became bitter cold. Chasing away the cobwebs of his dreams in a way nothing else could, he flew fast and hard.

Clarity relieving his brain, he thought over why he was having nightmares. Harry knew what his problem was; this wasn't nightmares of the past.

No, he used to have regrets about the war and his early years - what he could of done to save lives, but a couple years with Dumbledore's portrait back in his old world had sorted those out quick.

Instead, this was nightmares of future - and there was nobody to help him sort out those thoughts.

Only a few weeks here - he'd started to come up with ideas, set goals for what he wanted to fix, what he thought could be fixed. But, then something would conjecture against his idea and made him feel useless against the coming storm. He wasn't smart enough, wasn't cunning enough to know how to proceed.

Potter's were warriors, fighters - not politicians. Smart, sure - but mostly brash, lionhearted: Gryfindors through and through. Harry didn't understand the subtlety of deception, how to manipulate people with just words. He just wasn't that type of person - and it was those moments he felt useless.

It was those times he just wanted to kill everyone he knew was bad; starting with Death Eaters.

That plan was easy, simple.

But, there was always the .. what if..

What if I'm wrong, or what if it just makes more bad people - make matters worse.

Dumbledore had told him long ago; you cannot have light without dark.

No.. setting the world on fire would never work; he would become the thing he hates - and there was no end game, just.. Death.

Death, that was his constant struggle...

Not his fear though...

He'd met Death, he did not fear it.

What he feared was what Death wanted from him.

The Prophecy was always ringing in his mind.

A never ending echo... a voice that wouldn't go away.

This timeline, it was different - the changes; they kept him awake at night.

If it was the same as before, he could carefully plan everything - step by step on everyone he could save.

But, this wasn't his same world; that wouldn't work.

Merlin, he just wished he could talk to someone, anyone he could throw his ideas at and they would challenge him with different points of view - help him bear the weight of it all.

The house-elves while helpful, and useful were not bright creatures - sure they were capable of mimicking Wizards; but almost no original ideas came from the beings created by Morgana Le Fey.

There were also the Potter portraits around the manor, various Heads of House and important Potters before his time - he had discussed a bit with them. But, he knew they were just regurgitating small tidbits of knowledge reflective of the personalities the portraits were painted after.

While, some quite usefully, there was no inspiration or new ideas coming from them..

No, what Harry needed was something with a soul; a human that could answer and question him…

...

…Oh Merlin.. Hermione would kill me if she saw me now..

Harry James Potter, truly felt like a fool in that moment - the answer was literally on his finger.

He held up the ring, it's onyx black color almost invisible to the moonlight - but do I want to talk to them?

He remembered the story of Cadmus, going mad upon meeting his lover after her death. But, Harry wasn't longing for Death, no he wanted to make Death suffer - he wouldn't fall for his call.

However, he was human - subject to emotion in all its intricacies; so he made one rule: only one soul from the ring. No more than one, ever. Simple, easy, unbreakable..

Determined, he took to the ground below landing softly in a field - and closed his eyes imagining the person he knew could help him; a person dead in both this world, and his old one. A person who had the cunning, guile, and wit to assist him; in fact he knew they were the only person who could help.

Spinning his finger in three clockwise motions; he thought of his name - and for a moment there was silence.

Then, he opened his eyes.

"Hello Salazar"

* * *

"Boy, who taught you to duel?"

Harry was panting, laying against the soft grass of the manor's backyard - his 'target' (a rock transfigured into a moving dummy) was shattered into a thousand little pieces. Along with, most regrettably (as Tibsy was going to rip him a new one later), the rest of the lawn behind it.

"Ye twas a young whipper snapper when ye first learned to fight like a mear- " he chuckled out, gasping for breath.

"If ye want's to still haveth a head longer, ye bedon now" Salazar snapped at him mockingly, floating over the young boy - his eyes shut closed, head shaking.

The ancient monk like man looked aged even beyond Dumbledore's years - what little hair he had was greyer and more frayed than any others. His stature while postured, swayed with each movement; it was not what Harry had pictured the infamous wizard would look like.

"Your movements are abysmal - if it wasn't for the power behind them; I'd think you a beginner duelist - no couth at all."

No matter his image though, Salazar was severely blunt.

Harry rolled his eyes, sitting up; "Yeah cause when dark wizards are trying to kill you, one has to make sure to bow first"

Salazar sneered; "You know what I speak of, it's the etiquette you're supposed to learn young - flowing in a rhythm so each strike follows the next, and if you have to shield, conjure, or transfigure you can do so without pause."

The floating figure waited until he stood up again; "How is your recovery?"

Harry sighed; "Magic's fine, could be better - but my body is taking the strain harshly; I forgot how fucked up the Dursley's treated me."

"I thought you said you woke here in a different time; wouldn't that make this a different body?"

The 'boy' thought on this for a moment, "No, it feels like myself but younger - which means I basically reverted to what my body was like during this time; which I have to say even with nutrition supplements and daily workouts is still god-awful."

Even in Death, Salazar was quite the intimidating figure; and had mastered the art of sneering.

"Muggles raising one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight; what an atrocity - we built Hogwarts exactly so something like this wouldn't happen."

If there was one thing that the History books got right; Salazar was definitely a stickler for blood purity.

"Yeah, except the whole Orphanage portion of it has fallen away - it's just a boarding school these days."

Salazar stared into the distance, and Harry sensed he was looking towards Hogwarts.

"I wonder…" He turned back to Harry; "Do the Ghosts still reside on property?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Does Rowena's daughter still reside among them; Helena?"

He nodded; "She's there, has been since she died apparently.. Tough life that one.." Harry paused frowning; "Wait, how do you know about her - weren't you dead before her time?"

Salazar said nothing - turning back to stare into the distance; and Harry didn't feel like pushing, it wasn't his business.

"Speaking of Hogwarts, I've been meaning to ask - why the fuck did you put a Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets?"

Salazar raised an eyebrow; "How do you know about that, was the school attacked?"

"Bloody well killed the damn thing," Salazar looked furious so he explained; "was trying to kill me to be fair, Tom used his ancestry with you to control it."

The Slytherin's expression furrowed; "I have no descendants - what are you talking about?"

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it confused; "Tom.. said the Gaunt family line was descendent... Dumbledore showed... I guess I just assumed.."

Salazar growled; "I never got the chance to have children, my one true love died before her time. If anyone tells you otherwise, they are lying."

Finally, Harry realized what he was forgetting - "Oh, right - he could use Parselmouth, and Parsel Magic that's why.." his voice trailed off as Slytherin started laughing.

"Parsel Magic is just that: a form of magic - to speak Parselmouth, or rather the language of Snakes is a simple ritual; Godric discovered it one day when he was trying to figure out how to bond a familiar's magic to a wizard's."

Harry gaped; "Godric. Gryffindor. Discovered Parsel Magic?"

"Yes, were people under the impression it was a hereditary trait?" Harry nodded, "No child; what are they teaching you these days? Do they think I was simply obsessed with snakes, and therefore anything to do with them was about me?"

He gave a noncommittal shrug, and Salazar huffed; "Imbeciles.. See this is why Rowena created Petasum Historia so nothing could become second-hand; she always said history was written by the victors. Why someone would change that information though, not even a dangerous magic.."

"Petasum Historia?" he questioned confused.

"The hat, Helga configured it; and Rowena charmed it - surely it still sorts the houses? How else could you learn the secrets of each house?"

Harry thought for a moment; "Do you mean the Sorting Hat?"

Slytherin chuckled; "That would be a rough translation of what I just said, sure.. He still sorts the houses correct?"

Harry nodded.

"And transfers each of the house secrets to the new additions; dueling rooms, house-elf names, where to go in an emergency, spells for each of the older year private studies, so on.."

When Harry shook his head, still confused - Salazar rolled his eyes; "It seems much has changed; not to worry - we'll fix that when you attend in a few months."

Not really paying attention, he nodded - currently trying to process why someone would lie about something so innocuous as Parsel Magic not being hereditary. In the back of his mind, he knew the answer already though; a Light agenda to make Slytherin house seem more dark and evil. An errant thought brought him back to the present.

"So, why did you ward the Chamber of Secrets with a magic that anyone could do?"

Salazar rolled his eyes; "It was not warded with Parsel Magic, the Headmasters Office has the Warding schematic tied to all the locations in Hogwarts- "

He was cut off by a palpable tension cutting through the air, it seemed as though time had frozen - as the wind stopped blowing, and the grass around them instantly died.

"It's fucking what?!"

The older man remained silent; now he understood why this boy, no matter his lack of spell complexity, or understanding of magic, was chosen by Death himself.

His magic crackled through the air thick, sharp and deadly - searching for a target in his rage. When it found nothing, it attacked the ground around him; plowing through the Earth like water.

He'd yet to even direct it at a target, and Salazar knew it surpassed even his own.

"You're telling me that Dumbledore knew about the Chamber of Secrets, knew it was being opened and yet did nothing while Ginny went down there!"

Salazar crossed his arms, floating low the ground in front of the boy waiting for him to calm down. He didn't know who this Dumbledore was, but he was sure glad he wasn't near Harry right now.

"What the fuck! Why?! That doesn't even... Oh, ohhh that asshole... Another fucking test!" he was walking around ranting now, each step the grass around him would die; withering away to the dirt.

"Like the stone wasn't enough! Ugh!" he threw his hands in the air, accidentally moving a pile of earth ten feet into the air and dropping it without even looking.

Salazar grimaced as it fell back down, landing on a bush of lilacs.

"Oh, I know let's throw another dangerous test to make sure Harry's a good guy - don't wanna make another Tom Riddle; a poor abused neglected child" Harry's mocked a deep dumb guy voice.

"Yeah, let's have him go in a dark decrepit cave in a wild goose chase with a perverted memory-erasing Professor with a half-cocked idea that maybe someone's down this hole in the bathroom - hoping everything will work out.

But hey, I'm Albus Dumbledore the best Headmaster in the world; what could go wrong!

Oh, he defeated the basilisk? Shit, he's about to die - quick uhh Fawkes go save him. Yay!"

Merlin, he respected the man despite everything he had done to ensure victory - but fuck if he didn't think of some better ways of going about it.

Salazar shook his head; "Are you quite done?"

Harry transfigured a pile of dirt into Dumbledore; and threw a harsh bludgeoning at the crotch area, then a quick diffindo at the head. It's perfectly formed face falling flat to the dirt, which Harry smiled at then turned back to the ghost; satisfied.

"Now I am"

He chuckled; "You have quite the temper, I'll give you that.." he put his hands behind his back, and leaned down into Harry's face.

"Hmm.."

"What" Harry snapped.

"What do you want to do, young one? What is your goal?"

Potter sat down, a piece of earth rising up to receive him - and he turned towards the falling sun, watching it dip behind the trees leaving a soft orange glow.

When Harry didn't answer Salazar regarded the empty manor behind him; it was the first thing he noticed when meeting Harry - nobody around.

"Where is your family?"

He shook his head, "They're.. not the same"

Slytherin regarded him; "Your Father?"

"Dead"

"Mother"

"...I don't know"

"Brother?"

"I don't know him"

"Best friend?"

His blood pressure was rising; "I don't know! Okay! I don't know if they're the same people, I can't.."

Salazar regarded him, slowly understanding - "Don't know, or don't want to?"

Harry turned to sneer at him; "What would you do? If you knew that Death himself had given you a quest - an impossible task, would you drag the people you love into?"

When he didn't respond, Harry turned back to the Sun - it's light leaving the world, and darkness settling.

"You know I've lived twenty-eight.. almost twenty-nine years, killed ten times as many enemies; and I've died.. twice."

"I'm here only because Death wills it so.. so, don't ask me about my family - I'm not going anywhere near them."

A long silence followed, Salazar was a patient wise old man he could tell when younger blood was working something out themselves.

Finally after a few minutes, Harry turned back to him "What do I want to do? That's what you asked?"

Salazar nodded.

"Kill Voldemort. That's for sure - he may have been fucked up as a child, but that doesn't abstain the choices he's made: genocide, Horcruxes.. he needs to die, he deserves it."

"Okay, that's one thing... what else?"

Harry thought for a moment, he'd never really had a moment to think in his previous world. Everything already seemed so out of his control, he didn't stand a chance of doing anything - now.. it was different.

"I wanna change the Community.. it's broken, I want to fix it. There's too much that pure bloods can get away with that's illegal in the muggle world; swept under the rug in this one. Oblivation after rape, anti-conceiving jinxes, anverdatica on husband, amortentia on the wives, polyjuicing.." his voice trailed off, blood pressure already rising at the thought of some of the sick shit the Death Eaters of old got off on.

"Yeah, if I have to raise hell to change this world I will, for everyone: starting with our laws."

Salazar smiled; "Alright now we're getting somewhere - what else?"

"Well.."

* * *

Daphne

She stuck her hand out the window, feeling the wind - it wasn't right. Hadn't been for a few hours, the clouds overhead were dashing across the sky; however the wind that carried them didn't match it's speed.

It was befuddling, but having grown up in a world where her father could transform a teacup into a living creature with a flick of his wand; she didn't think much on it.

Daphne was procrastinating, of course. Her tutor; Ms. Agnes, had given her a fairly thick booklet of homework to do over the summer before her first year at Hogwarts; and she didn't feel a lick for it. The wait was excruciating, she wanted to practice magic - not write about it. She envied her little sister, who had gotten her wand a day earlier, having been practicing non-stop the little charms she could do, showing off to her disgruntled sister.

Astoria was the crowned princess of their family; justly titled by Daphne - the spoiled brat.

Daphne was the heir apparent, the oldest sister even though they were only ten months apart, and (most of the time) the responsible one. But her sister was cute, adorable - and had mastered the art of charming. So, all she had to do was dab her doey eyes at their father and he would give her the world.

Daphne had to study, be proper - live the life expected of the next heir of the honorable Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass. Posh, she huffed at the thought, chin resting on the windowsill; she imagined herself a princess trapped in an ivory tower - a fierce massive dragon guarding her from the world, both the warden and guard.

She knew she shouldn't complain, her life was easy - she was healthy, well off, and smart. Most definitely smart, even the other pureblood girls in her friend circle couldn't compare. They lacked Daphne's tenacity, she wanted to know everything - her quest for knowledge in all things magic dwarfed any other endeavours as pointless.

Which was why she was exceedingly disappointed when her father forced her to attend a meeting with the Goblins, instead of adventuring to Ollivanders with her sister on their very first visit to Diagon Alley. But politics rose above all else; there was business to go over - family alliances to study, financial redundancies to glazed eye at, and worst of all: betrothal contracts to swiftly ignore.

But ignore she could not, the people named would be offended if she at least didn't consider them. An affront to the Greengrass name, though Daphne lack the need to care for their opinions - her father was a Leader in their community, and needed to proceed as such. His daughter, was a bargaining tool just as much as anything else under his control.

So, betrothal reading they did:

Dirk Montier, 12, Pureblooded, Heir Apparent of House Montier ~ 12,000 Galleons per betrothal.

Dismissed by her father, too low ranked of a House.

She wouldn't have considered it either way, Dirk was a bastard; even at the ripe old age of eleven the twit was quick tongued to put everyone down a peg for even looking his way. He thought himself the next coming of Merlin, which; by his severe lack of anything resembling intelligence, was yet to be proven.

Isaak Berend, 11, Halfblooded, Heir Presumptive of House Berend ~ 7,000 Galleons per betrothal.

Dismissed by the Goblins, funds bounced; titles under suspension while being re-examined by the Wizengamot.

Shame, she rather liked Isaak; he was a small boy - distinctly crase but a deserved laugh in any event. Given a few good years, and some better luck he would be an amusing husband.

Markus Rosier, 11, Pureblooded, Heir Apparent of Noble House Rosier ~ 25,000 per marriage.

Briefly considered by Cygnus, he had set it aside given his father's affiliation with Voldemort, having thought to be a Death Eater but never proven; they proceeded to wait until his son's politics were more known.

Daphne dismissed it however with a sneer, Markus was following in his fathers bloodlust footsteps with greedy longing. He was a bully, and a torturer - at their get togethers he acted brutally rash and fought with the other boys constantly. Whether his fathers death at the hands of Alastar Moody during a struggle had contributed, or if he was inanely sadistic - Daphne couldn't tell.

Eustace Fawley, 11, Pureblooded, Heir Apparent of Ancient and Noble House of Fawley ~ 33,000 Galleons per betrothal.

Her father had especially considered this betrothal most of all despite Daphne's eagerness against it.

As one of the Sacred Twenty Eight, Eustace was head and shoulders above everyone else - and their House was known to tend more towards the Grey than Light on political stances. But, for Daphne; Eustace was too.. Dull, his idea of a fun time was watching the stars or napping in a greenhouse.

Daphne was too ambitious for frevoluites, every second spent on anything but studying the intricacies of magic was time wasted.

That day had concluded with nothing gained, and nothing lost - they sent out the appropriate responses of negative acceptance tactfully worded with enough thankfulness to not give wrath from their parents and returned home.

Sitting at the window, a day later, she let the light breeze wash over her tanned skin. It was cool, too cool for a hot July day - the clouds continuing the befuddle her understanding of basic science.

But then she felt it, magic; flowing wildly, loosely in the air. It was thin, probably floating from miles away - but it was there, she could acutely sense it; making the goosebumps on her arms prominent.

She sat, waiting for a sign - something to show in the distant hills of Cardiff in explanation. But nothing happened, and the foreboding magic continued drifting through the air. Daphne lost track of time, faintly realizing by the setting sun it was time for dinner.

What used to be a nightly social affair between business partners, and potential allies - had, because of recent times, turned into a normal pureblood family dinner. Which meant awkward silence, and the occasional probing questions.

Her father, not one to waste opportunities when presented, always made sure his girls were keeping in line each and every dinner. Which made Daphne hate to join them but, as the eldest, join them she must. So with a heavy heart she trudged down the stairs towards the wafting smell of lasagna in the kitchen.

When she reached the dining room, she was met with her father and sister already chowing down on meal. Silby was pulling out the chair for her when she made it to the table, she sat down to the sound of her father sighing - he was reading the Prophet. Relieved that her absence wasn't noted she quietly ravished her meal to keep up with their already half-finished portions.

Astoria rolled her eyes at her sister, "What's wrong daddy?" she twirled her hair like a toddler - making their father lower his paper a tad.

"Nothing you need to worry about darling" he commented, but Daphne could tell he really didn't mean it. This was something that affected them too.

Risking his attention she pushed him further, "Daddy, were starting First Year soon.. What's going on?"

Cygnus sighed, running a hand through his short hair - a habit he had kept since his time with the Aurors. "The Dark Lord has made his first move.. An attack on Diagon Alley, I think things will get worse from here on out." He took another sip of his red wine then motion a house-elf forward, which he handed the paper too.

"Daph, Tori" he drew their attention, which Astoria sneered at her nickname; and Daphne set down her fork. "I feel we need to talk about your upcoming year at Hogwarts, things have changed - the people you were once friends with.. May not be friends anymore." He took another sip of his glass, pausing.

"There will be more security this year at Hogwarts, the Board of Governors has assured us that Aurors will be on the grounds twenty-four seven. They, plus Dumbledores presence at the school will ward off attacks from outside.. But.." he paused, making sure the seriousness of his tone was understood.

"What they cannot protect you from is attacks within"

Daphne's eyes glossed over, thinking about the magnitude of his statement.

"If you think someone is being untoward, contact me first - and I can talk to their parents; or at worst threaten them. But, never tell the Staff - if it reaches their ears, they will make it public and that could be misunderstood as an attack against the family."

Clearly he meant that only a pureblood would try something improper, but Daphne couldn't help but wonder what he would do if a half-blood or merlin forbid a muggleborn were to try something. She couldn't imagine how many times a misunderstanding had led to a family death.

"I will be giving you both an item that will.. Help protect against those people, but it is not foolproof; there are ways around it.."

Looking across the table Daphne watched Astoria pale, clearly she had been given "the talk" already - for both their minds were exactly on the same page.

Daphne wanted the throwup, it was despicable that a father should even have to have a conversation like this with his daughters. Especially when he was sending them to a place the whole wizarding world put on a pedestal too high to reach.

Cygnus spared a glance at his oldest daughter; "I also trust that the lessons I have taught you will not be lost, we cannot lose a bargaining position from any improper mistakes." Daphne swallowed down the various comments that pricked her brain, and nodded instead. Her sex life as a bargaining position, what a fucking crase omission.

"Good, then after Diagon has been repaired we will make a short trip to get your wand" he stated with finality, and returned to his paper - as though everything was alright with what was just said.

Daphne suddenly no longer felt hungry, "Father may I be excused?" She questioned, despite the need to run up the stairs and cry immediately overwhelming her.

"Yes, you may" he seemed to be merciful, or maybe his complexion didn't match his emotions either.. Daphne didn't care to know. She left the unfinished plate, and swiftly dashed to her room - quietly shutting the door behind her before letting the sobs flow out.

Muffliato doorways, she suddenly felt overly grateful for in this moment.

She cried leaning against the mahogany late into the night; and at some point fell asleep against the door.

In the morning, everyone acted like the conversation didn't happen and continued about their day.

Which only further brood Daphne's mood, she became nervous at the idea of something happening to her at Hogwarts, but most of all of something happening to her carefree living life sister.

She was innocent, not as innocent as other girls; but innocent nonetheless and Daphne decided she would do whatever she could to protect her.

* * *

Harry

Horcrux hunting in this world was fun, in a wicked twisted way that it was much different than his first time around; camping in the woods with Ron and Hermionie, debating and arguing over the littlest things as the Locket sapped away their inhibitions. Merlin, that felt so long ago. This time however, brought a smile to Harry's face.

Gaunt manor was as grotesque as he remembered, even worse: reality compared to his memory helped humanize the degraded bodies of two long dead wizards guarding the door way of the house. A small playful warning from Tom Riddle himself to all that ventured there. Harry took the time to burn their bodies away as a proper burial before returning to his search of the property. Instead of the ring (which Harry suspected didn't exist in this world), a thin extravagant necklace sat between the floorboards surrounded by the most deadly wards Harry had ever heard of.

But, he had heard of them, used a few himself so their removal only took a few minutes. The mere fact that Harry knew the wards told him the necklace was one of Tom's first Horcruxes, created most likely when he was an inexperienced youth; just on the verge of discovering magic and all its might.

It was shame, he had been expecting more of a challenge, but was grateful none the less - the real challenge was Voldemort himself; and that he knew was where his power and youth would help the most.

The cup was even easier, after a short meeting with Griphook, and Ragnorak - they ventured down to the bowels of Gringotts, around the Dragon guarding the Black Family Vaults; and entered it's sanctuary. Safely storing it away with the necklace in a moleskin pouch tied around his neck they left the Vault. After they'd returned to the surface, he apologized to the two goblins then sufficiently obliviated their memories; he couldn't risk their minds being penetrated and Voldemort learning his precious items were gone.

The other Horcruxes were a bit harder to evaluate how to proceed, the Locket he knew was with Kreacher but unfortunately was trapped in Grimmauld Place; a place he no longer knew the location of - which clearly meant Sirius had set up a Fiddelus. Spending a few minutes debating how to proceed he came up with nothing, and instead moved onto the next Horcrux.

The Diadem he knew would be at Hogwarts, in the Room of Requirement which shouldn't be a problem getting once he attended later in the year.

Nagini, he couldn't even begin to imagine where she was - only to know that wherever she was, her master would be; so he didn't worry about it.

Then finally, the Diary; he expected to at some point to find Lucius, and … assuage him to give the book to Harry. Through will or fire, he would destroy that book before it ever touched the hands of Ginerva Weasley; for this he was sure. But, unfortunately his information on Lucius wearabouts had brought up nill; so he decided to wait until Hogwarts to proceed.

Finally there was John, he was sure the boy had a soul piece stuck in his forehead; the scar he faintly saw whenever he was public made it obvious but Harry would have to wait to confirm it.

Sitting in the main dining room eating some fantastic food the elves had cooked up, Harry twirled the soul containers in front of him with magic.

Two of the Seven, not exactly a great start but it was something - Harry just hoped this worlds Voldemort was as foolish as the last ones; to not move soul containers or trust them with different people.

It would be a pain in the ass to find them.

Not impossible though - he knew of a few blood rituals that he could perform to ascertain their position; having researched them all to hell with the help of Hermione after Voldemort's defeat, the two knew everything there was to know about Horcruxes. But, with events on the horizon Harry suspected he wouldn't have the leisure time he currently had to go searching.

Oh well it was enough for now - he stabbed at the chicken with fervour while thinking of his next plans.. Twirling his finger absentmindedly a wisp of smoke appeared into the air; "Hey Salazar.." an idea was coming to him.

"Yes?"

* * *

Daphne

During the anxious wait of summer before the Hogwarts Express, Daphne tried to focus her attention on anything else, and the mysterious magic she felt floating in the air became her source of distraction.

It was one particular evening, Daphne was resting in a chair she propped next to the open window - a view of the distant hills before her; her feet were crossed under her legs, and a heavy charms tome dangled against her knee.

There was a moment, almost too brief to recognize when she felt the magic flare; almost violently so - then it retreated back to its calm persona. If she hadn't been akinly aware of it, she wouldn't have noticed - but it was that brief moment that solidified her need to know the mysterious magic source.

Five days later of theory searching she was still befuddled by the magic, she decided on another approach, one she had been leaving as a last resort; "Daddy, is there anyone that lives over the hills?" she vaguely threw a hand towards the wall behind her as though half interested.

Cygnus raised an eyebrow while polishing off the rest of his plate.

"Where? To the East?" she nodded, and Cygnus was overcome with a faraway look.

"There used to be.." he almost whispered, but then he looked back at her and shook his head. "No, it's all empty hills and forest, why?"

Not wanting her mystery to be discovered, she shrugged innocently - eyes towards her plate; "No reason, just curious."

Cygnus eyebrows furrowed, but he didn't push.

Daphne could tell though that her father knew something, there used to be - he'd said. That meant there was, but now there wasn't; maybe someone came back? And now they were experimenting with some sort of powerful magic.. Daphne had to know.

So, over the next week - she planned her escape from Greengrass manor - to journey farther than she ever had in her life; over the hills and through the woods to the East..

* * *

Harry

They were in the yard again, this time a section of woods in front of him was gone. Completely taken away by a wave of earth, to be dropped harshly again a hundred yards away.

Harry could feel it, his magic was excited, also like him, thrilled at the prospect of being unleashed - a torrent wave that did not want to be stopped. In these moments, Harry found it harder to stop his flow of magic than it was to produce it.

It made him giddy, high on his own potency- feeling invincible, ready to take on the world. But he always remembered this wasn't enough..

not for Riddle,

not for Grindelwald,

not for Bellatrix, Rookwood, Garvell, Marcus, and so so many others.

He needed to be stronger, he needed to be wiser - and that took time; something he had plenty of.

For now, training was his sole purpose. Between physical exercise, lessons with Salazar, and his magical experimentation he was slowly working towards where he wanted to be; a powerful sorcerer.

Harry regarded the lake an acre away from the manor, putting his wand away; he closed his eyes. Feeling his magic, below the surface - eager, excited. Pulling on it, it jumped with joy at the opportunity - coming alive, it channeled around him; waiting for his command.

He didn't feel this type of control in his past life, his magic so submissive, it was unnerving. Before it was more like a petulant child, going with the flow only to be controlled with a harsh hand. Now, Harry barely had to think before it jumped at the opportunity to please him.

He couldn't tell if this was a gift from Death or not, either way he was thankful for it.

Raising a hand, he disappeared and reappeared at the lake without turning - there wasn't even an apparition snap: simply one second he was at the manor, the next he was at the lake. He was beginning to see that magic wasn't so restrictive as he once thought, it was all about intention - what you want to happen.

If you focused hard enough, the magic would follow.. Or at least it would for him.

The lake seemed to jitter on the surface, the water's tension breaking apart as an invisible hand slowly churned it. A minute later, the waves were moving with torrents ripping in concaves to splash into the air. Taking a deep breath, Harry made a gesture upward with his hand and immediately the whole lake followed: diving into the air and floating above him a hundred yards up. Small droplets falling to the wet dirt below, trout and pike floating away above in the giant bubble of water.

Harry smiled at his elemental manipulation, and releasing his hand made it fall back to the ground - splashing against the surface until it stabilized in the vacancy it once adjourned.

A small snap to his left drew his attention, "Master the guest has arrived" Gaylia stated with an air of pleasure that was the opposite of how Harry suddenly felt. He didn't want to have this meeting, but Salazar had insisted it was important.

"Thank you, I'll be there shortly", Gaylia nodded and disappeared. Harry flicked his finger in a motion three times, and sat down as the transparent figure took form.

"She is here?" Salazar questioned, almost excitedly - which for him was a slight twitch of the cheeks in an almost smiling form.

Harry nodded, taking out a potion and chugging it - downing the drink in one cringed gulp; it tasted even worse than polyjuice. He threw the bottle away, vanishing it with a flick - "I still don't understand why this is so important, I can do without them."

Salazar rolled his eyes; "But life would be easier with them on your side - in my day the magical police force was just a group of men who devoted their lives to maintaining order. They were cavalier, and extremely secretive but noble in their actions - why, I remember Arthur-"

"Yes, yes, get to the point" Harry sneered, knowing a convoluted story of Salazars could take hours to finish.

Salazar huffed; "The point is, the enemy of your enemy is your friend"

"Until they stab you in the back" Harry pointed out.

"Too true, now hurry up; best not keep a woman waiting" Salazar disappeared, flowing back into the ring.

Harry shook his head, and disapparated to the manor - his physical features done changing to an adult form. Appearing in an off the corner hallway, he made towards the main entrance, and his guest: Amelia Black nee Bones.

A woman unsurprisingly dead before Voldemort's defeat in his old world, as an outspoken critic against the Darks Agenda, and the Auror Commander she was a political target equal to even Dumbledore.

Now she was alive, fighting the war against Voldemort with fervor, and last name was Black.

He caught her eyeing up some fake pictures he had created in the entrance way. Pictures of himself, and some unknown people in various places across the world. A well vetted persona he planned on using advantage of as his reason for disappearing from the world.

"Evening, Commander" he stuck out a hand, Amelia startled gasped then turned towards him with a sheepish expression. Harry's eyes narrowed, she was a soft woman - too soft for the road ahead.

She returned the shake stiffly, cheeks warming - "Thank you for having me Lord Peverell"

He nodded, "What can I do for you, Commander?"

"There has been talk, in Spinner's End, of a man coming and going between shops; digging for information" she paused waiting for him to confess, when he didn't she sighed.

"Normally I would think this man to be one of my Auror's, or an Unspeakable; and didn't give it a second thought - but instead I find out its none other than our newly returned Lord of a family once thought dead" she shifted from foot to foot while talking, as though nervous to even confront him with the information.

"I can't help but wonder why a man such as yourself is looking for information on Death Eater hangouts"

"To maim and kill, of course" he stated bluntly.

At first she chuckled, thinking he was joking but then the seriousness in his tone caught up to her.

She gaped, "That would be highly illegal- "

"Because everything they do is?"

"Auror's must be above reproach, laws cannot be thrown aside-"

"Your right, which is why I am not an Auror"

"I cannot allow you to- "

"Then stop me"

It was a challenge, they both knew it.

Amelia's eyes narrowed; and while her hand was twitching at her side for a quick draw, he was calm, steady, and determined.

This more than anything else, off put her - it reminded her of Dumbledore, always in control.

"You are being reckless, Harry" she stated.

And he twitched, stunned - it was something Hermione said to him constantly, he suddenly felt like a fifteen year old again.

"Someone has to be," it was his default response, and he said it without a second thought. "Your Department isn't equipped to handle the coming storm, the Department of Mysteries any less."

"My Department-"

"Is nothing more than glorified security guards, I have tested your security measures numerous times; they are weak, breakable - even without corruption from within."

"I WILL NOT STAND HERE INSULTED- !"

"Then leave, you came to me, I'm merely stating the obvious because I know what is to come, and I need you prepared for it."

"THE CHIEF JUSTICE WILL HEAR OF- !"

"Do not threaten me, Commander, I am not intimidated easily"

She huffed, and threw powder into the Fireplace before she could say another word - erupting in the ethereal green with a flourish. Harry sighed, already feeling the coming headache.

"You were too crase" Salazar sneered, piercing him with a glare.

"She is surrounded in red tape, and a veiled mist of sensibility - a little humility might aim for her to prove me wrong"

"I think she aims to bury you in red tape,'' he chuckled.

"She can try, it will make her realize her weakness even more", Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Your right though, I shouldn't have edged her on."

"Too true"

* * *

Daphne

She'd found the perfect day, it was dusk; her father was in France on a business negotiation, her sister spending the night at a friends house - and Hokey (their house-elf) was cleaning the Guest house in the back of the manor.

So, determined; Daphne snuck out of the house - packing only her wand and a Sneakoscope she dashed out the manors safety into the hillside.

Travelling over fallen trees, and farmers property fences she was silent cursing for forgetting to wear some long pants. The night cold was starting to chill her, but she was unperturbed - she would discover the mystery magics source no matter what it took.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was more like thirty minutes; she came to an open field - just a normal, falling hillside where the untrimmed grass stretched for acres.

The magic was thick here, choking the air like a maelstrom of.. Emotions. Here where she could feel it against her skin, she could sense the anger, rage, it was violent but.. Controlled, and layered in a thin wrap of guilt.

It was intoxicating, and confusing - so powerful but safe.. The nature of it was befuddling, and she yearned to discover its source.

She walked across the hills, each moment searching for nothing in the growing darkness. Walking up another hill, she felt a sharp rise in the magic - it was overwhelming here, and right when she met the crest of the hill she realized why.

It was obliterated, the landscape torn apart and destroyed down to the earth below; stretching for miles was a giant hole.

Almost like a meteorite has crashed landed right in the middle, then disappeared. The land conclaves hundreds of feet into the earth, showing the insides of the land.

It was almost beautiful, in a destructive creativity of madness. Something had done this, and Daphne could scarcely imagine what. Various images of Nundos, and Dragons filled her head and she tried to picture a massive fight between two creatures creating the landscape before her.

Yes, that had to be it - a territory dispute, it was the only logical explanation; or rather the only one she wanted to believe. For if a human had done this.. Merlin, she shivered at the very thought.

That night, when she returned home an hour later; she could barely sleep - thoughts traveling back to the canyon in the earth. What happened, what did it, and why..

(Seven Months Later)

Harry hovered a foot above the still waters of Hogwarts Black Lake. His cloak billowing in the Scottish Highland wind. He was sure it would've looked cool if anyone could see him.

That was unlikely.

He was both invisible and silenced - staring down at the Merpeople below as the moonlight reflected off the Lake.

Really, he didn't need to be here. It was more an afterthought of his plan, but the more he thought on it; the wiser it seemed. Or so Salazar advised him..

The Tome of Nomina, residing for the past ten years in the Deputy Headmistresses Office; in the Eastern Tower of Hogwarts.

Resting only a rooms length away from a powerful diligent witch with ages of knowledge and wisdom; at all times.

..fuck.

But he knew what it would say on that book, dangerous information - and while the Albus of his old world he could trust, this worlds Headmaster did not know Harry Potter. Did not know his ideals, what he stood for, or who he was.. he was an unknown.

But Harry realized this was a blessing in disguise: as long as he was an unknown - he would be a nameless unknown; not deign for attention, free to act without people breathing down his neck.

Just as long as this mission succeeded...

Harry took a deep breath, and glided towards the window of the Tower, carefully unlocking and pulling it forward slowly; aware of the breeze deciding to pick up.

Taking a quiet step in, he sent a detection pulse around the room - no traps?

He close the window silently and took in the room; a soft glowing fire illuminated the living area.

A sea of nauseating maroon, and gold stood before him - and he was reminded of the Gryffindor Common room. His heart swelled slightly at the thought, but he dismissed it glancing around.

On the far wall, twin doors stood elegantly in the concave of a small entrance way - he cautiously made towards them. Taking each tantalizing step slowly, and careful - god, I feel like a naughty student again.

Standing before one of the closed mahogany doors, he waved his hand - the wood silently meld together to leave an open hole; a window into the room.

Harry held his breath peeking in to take in the room: a dresser, desk, and on the far wall; a bed lying his old/future Transfiguration teacher.

She looked deep asleep, and Harry slowly melded the door back together; careful to keep it as quiet as possible.

Stepping back to the other door, he opened it with an echoing click - holding his breath, he sent a detection pulse around the room.. still no traps.

Come on Minerva, what are you doing?

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and made towards a table at the far end.

There was a soft glow, and the rustling of papers - a large wide tome was flipping through page after page every ten seconds; in concert a letter and envelope would appear above it, softly glowing before placing itself down carefully enclosing with a filled-out letter.

The Hogwarts Invitation Letters..

He swiftly snatched up a few, eagerly reading over them - looking for unfamiliar names. Going over the growing batch of letters; he realized there was no difference to his own time, sure there were a few new names but they could've just been people he never noticed before, or never bothered to learn about. Harry realized this was becoming a waste of time, and was about to stop when he came across a name that set his blood stammering.

John Potter.

His eyes flicked across the address, curious to see where his mother and John had decided to hide.

And almost threw up in his mouth.

Johns Bedroom

4 Privet Dr

Little Whinging, Surrey

What?!

Before he could process this, he felt the door to the room creak slowly open; dropping the letter. Instantly he disappeared from sight, the magic of the Invisibility Cloak coursing over him like a second skin.

The door finished opening, and a shut-eyed; barely awake McGonagall stumbled in. With a flourish of her wand, the light turned on and she made way to Harry's position; unnoticed of his presence.

Heart pounding, he carefully trapeze around the Professor; making sure to keep a body's length of room between them.

Luckily, in her half-awake state the older woman seemed not to feel his presence; with a swish of her wand she floated the now finished stack of Envelopes towards the closed window and with a flourish opened the window sending the Envelopes out of it into the open air.

What is she..

Following the line of letters out the window, he realized she was sending them towards the North-Western tower; Dumbledore's Office. Who's window was already wide open from what he could see at the far distance.

I need to call mine back..

Minerva seemed pleased with her result, shutting the window, she made back towards the open door; undoubtedly to return to her slumber.

The door closed behind him with a click, and as quickly as Harry could he transfigured the window into an opening and dived out it.

Catching himself after a moment's free fall, he glided after the letters - accio Harry Potter's letter!

He flicked a finger and waited, when nothing happened Harry paused; did Minerva really anti-accio charm a set of letter going out a window in the middle of the night?

No.. that was Moody level paranoia; Minerva was never the forethought type of woman. More hone to react in situations than predict them, like a pure Gryffindor.

...accio Harry Peverall's letter? He flicked a finger, then watched as a letter glide towards his outstretched hand.

huh..

He took note of the Letter;

Harry Peverell

Master Bedroom, Eastern Wing, Potter Manor

Wentloog Road, Cardiff, Wales

With a wave of his hand over the lettering; it slowly transformed - he pictured a fake address in his mind and it adjusted. Then he slammed a powerful confundus charm against it, making sure it would stick.

Harry Peverall

Harry's Bedroom

27 Park Centre

Donegall, Belfast

Pleased, he sent the letter after the others - and floated away from the grounds; a small grin on his face.

* * *

Privet Dr was a sweltering hot buzz of activity, the afternoon sun blazing down on the group of people lazing about on the back patio. The smell of barbeque smoke floated over Harry, watching invisible from the rooftop a few houses down, making his stomach roll in protest.

Normally the quaint Number 4 town house was built to furnish around four, maybe five people max and yet, despite this, for the past week Harry had watched no less than eight people in the house at any time. Enlargement, extension, and engorgement charms no doubt was Harry's first thought - and by the way nobody used the front door, except the Dursleys; they were also connected to the Floo Network.

Fianto Duri, Sepantiasi Intenta, Gorgons Bloodica, and many many more powerful wards surrounded not only the house, but five more around it. Decoys for the Order, Harry assumed - honestly he didn't know why they bothered; a simple Fidelius would fix everything.

But Lily must've learned from past mistakes not to use the charm, which was smart given the large loophole: trust. She couldn't trust the people around them, which didn't settle well with Harry.

Still, it wasn't his problem.. Was it?

He didn't owe this worlds Lily anything, his real mom died a long time ago, they weren't the same.. Fuck, he didn't know.

Really, Harry didn't know much of anything lately.. The more he watched this perfect image of a family he never got, the more he questioned his motives. This world, he realized after just a few minutes, was much.. Much different from his own.

First, was the Dursley's: they were nice.. No, they were lovely. Towards everyone, and everything - life itself was enjoyable for them. Petunia a perfect mother, Vernon a splendid father and worker - and Dudley a not so obese, living life child.

It made Harry sick, his stomach twisting horribly; where were these people when I needed them?

Never had he seen Vernon laugh while smoking a cigar, flipping burgers on the grill while talking about Gordon Durie, Chelsea F.C.'s forward. Or, Petunia tanning on a sunchair, holding the arm of her sister laughing at an inside joke together. Even Dudley playing a small pickup game of football in the yard between him, John, and some girl he didn't recognize: using small potted plants on either side as goal posts. The image before him was surreal, impossible for him to even imagine, which made him question why.. Why was this even possible?

Was he the problem?

While Harry couldn't imagine what he could have done to make the Dursleys hate him, some of the circumstances of his arrival on 4 Privet Dr could have very clearly attributed to his treatment. From, Dumbledore's blatant disregard for the muggles opinion in the decision, to his sudden arrival, to the fact they were not wealthy people to begin with.. Painted a picture in Harry' adult mind.

Still, there was a level of apathy they should of been applied to a fucking one year old. What did they expect a child to do? Make choices about his future? Find a suitable place to live after his mother and father were murdered in one night?

Fuck you! He wanted to scream so many times on that roof, the blazing sun raising his blood pressure the more he took in the scene.

That was only the beginning of the strangeness however, second was Severus Snape - now while he knew from Snape's memories that he was in love, deeply in love with Lily Evans. He did not imagine his mother would even tolerated him back. I mean, this is the man who was Voldemort's Second in Command during the war...

Lily Evans is a muggleborn.

Voldemort and his cruny of minions hate Muggleborns.

the math is pretty simple.

And yet, Severus Snape day in, day out is hanging about Lily Evans, not only with pleasant adoration, but of a young lovers infatuation. The cuddling, arm touching, light kisses, and lover eyes was actually enough to make Harry throw up on the roof more than once. It was repulsive, not just in a: hey, my ex-teacher is fucking my mother way. But in more a, Snape is having sex, what has the world come to! sort of way.

It wasn't right, but it also wasn't his business.. He had to repeat that sentence over and over in his mind from breaking through their wards and shoving Severus six feet underground.

He shouldn't judge, this world's Severus could be a much different person - a changed man.. Or maybe never had to change at all. From what little tid-bits he could make out between newspaper clippings, and bar talk at the Leaky; James and Lily were betrayed by Pettigrew as per usual, but he couldn't tell who found out about the 'prophecy' and told Voldemort.

It could of been Pettigrew, or just some random bloke - maybe even Voldemort himself heard from the Department of Mysteries.. But there was no evidence to suspect Severus the problem.

For now, he could do nothing - Harry would have time to research that later; specifically at Hogwarts where Lily was Potions Master and Severus was their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

His focus, his biggest conundrum, and third final differential of this world was:

John Potter.

His brother, Harry should say - in the sense they were born from.. Sorta.. the same father, albeit not really.

He didn't know what to think of the boy, he was shorter than Harry - had more manageable hair, and his nose was a little sharper. But other than that, they were fairly close imitations of one another. Same green eyes, pale skin, and lanky bodies - Harry was more defined from his countless hours after hours of training in the past seven months; but nothing noticeable outward of clothes.

What really defined a difference between them was intelligence. Of course Harry, still had his adult intellect coming with it major emotional control; and calculative decision making but even at a young age Harry was slightly above average in intelligence despite his deficiencies being raised by the cruel Dursleys.

John was.. Not dumb, or mentally challenged, but just average. Even Dudley easily rose to his level of intelligence, constantly teasing the smaller boy every once in a while with jokes above his understanding level in a loving friendly way anyone could recognize as family teasing; which ironically made Harry a little jealous.

For a moment, he contemplated that maybe Voldemort was messing with his mind. Torturing him through the soul in his scar.. If he had one.

Harry couldn't see him not having one though, if the same scene happened with James sacrifice acting as the blood ward - and Voldemort turning his wand against the child.. The soul would be in there. And seeing as Voldemort was not entirely defeated that night, for whatever benign reason - he would have the ability to torture John all the time. Maybe without the boy even realizing it, slow methodical mental torture..

Finally, Harry saw a simple problem he could easily fix.. Once they were at school.

Everything fell on school starting, which was only a month and a half away; entirely too long for Harry.

Patience did not sit well with Potters. But, with a shrug he contemplated other ideas; for now.. Lets see what Voldeys up to.

* * *

(One Week Later)

Harry twirled the potion between his fingers; the dark corner of the alleyway obscuring him from view.

From this angle, he could see the Muggle exit of the Leaky Cauldron - his twirling stopping each time a drunken group stumbled out the doors. To be renewed once again when his target wasn't with them.

It was getting late now, the dusk had settled - and final call was thirty minutes ago. He grimaced at the notion that the man had exited into Diagon Alley - but with his Apartment in the other direction; that didn't make sense. No way he apparated home after a hard night of drinking.

Maybe the man could have picked up a bird, and made off to her place - Harry scoffed at the idea; Quirrel with a girl? Harry shivered.

Finally, when the bar's lights dimmed - a man stepped out; head wrapped in a multi-colored shroud. Leaning heavily as he walked away from the bar, his steps uneven and random.

Harry grinned, finally.

Taking a long chug of his potion, snarling against the taste he disappeared it with a wave.

His bones shifted, face stretching - and nose angling awkwardly; he started to grow taller and withiring a few seconds he was an entirely different person.

Stan Stunpike now stood in his place.

In an instant, he was across the street - apparating within an inch of his target's personal space. If Quirrel had even noticed in his drunken state, he couldn't have done a thing - his body collapsed to the invisible stunner in a second.

Harry grabbed the man's turban, lifting it back.. to nothing. No, Voldemort..

This didn't surprise him, Voldemort would never have let his Vessel get intoxicated in public; let alone weak and vulnerable like he was.

He moved on to his second plan, taking the body under an arm; he disappeared.

Many, many miles away - a crack echoed off the Cliffs of Dover.

Taking another bottle out of his cloak, 'Stan' forced it down Quirrel's throat - tipping it within ensuring every last drop wasn't wasted. It had taken a month for his house elf's to make a bottle of Veriteserum, he would not let it go to waste.

Harry finite Quirrels body followed by a renerveate, releasing the stunner from his limbs. Even in a drunken stupor, the man was quick of wit - trying with all his might he kicked at Harry's leg to unbalance him and reach for his wand.

His plan was for naught, as he suddenly learned 'Stan Stunpike' had been expecting this.

Crucio

'Stan' cocked his head at the man below him as he withered and screamed in pain; almost bored..

"We can fuck around, or you can be a good boy and answer my questions Professor.."

Harry really didn't need to waste so much time with this pathetic interrogation; he could rip through the man's Occulmency shields and destroy his mind searching for the memories he was looking for.

But.. he would have to kill Quirell aftwards, and a dead Hogwarts Professor, a spy for Voldemort to boot - left too many questions. An investigation would be drawn, and Merlin knows if he made any mistakes during all this kidnapping.

No, it was better for him to just destroy his memories of the night; leaving faking memories of a drunken stupor night toast in its place. The after-effects of the Crucio, assumed as a post-haze soreness and the headache to follow.

Releasing the Crucio, he levitated the man above him - walking over to the Cliffs he held him above it. Quirrell snapped out of his daze, seeing the 200 foot drop to jagged rocks and icy cold water below him.

"Professor" Harry drawled with a tease. "Are we going to play nice now?"

Quirrell seemed to evaluate his situation then grit his teeth, "yes". He spit out with venom, eyes glaring with bloodshot veins.

'Stan' grinned, "Good, now where's your Master? Where's the little bitch hiding?"

The man seemed to shake, his legs twitching violently - "I.. can't.. no!"

Harry rolled his eyes; "I don't think you understand where you sit Professor; answer me or die."

He snapped a finger; ice crystals forming around the man from the Oceans condensation.

Quirell eyebrows raised in surprise but said nothing.

So, with a motion - the Crystals floated towards the man slowly.

"Personally, I would take the former option - the latter is rather.. depressing."

The crystals dug into his skin, slowly pushing the jagged edges into his pores until small pricks of blood started to appear.

Quirrell shook even more, his eyes bulging - "I-I-I can't! It won't- arghhh! He's in B- AHH!"

As he tried to finish the sentence, his arm glowed a bright green - flashing against his skin and Harry felt the Dark Magic against it work to silence him.

Fuck! A Snitch Corruption Mark, I thought Tom only applied that to Inner Circle...

Harry was surprised, he had underestimated Quirrell's position in the Dark Lords ranks. Fuck!

He was basically useless now, the Snitch Mark made sure to painfully destroy the body of anyone snitching. And it would painfully destroy the mind preventing occulmency intrusions.

Although.. Harry always wondered what would happen if you cut off the appendage the mark was attached to.

With a swish of his finger, Quirrell screamed - his arm falling away to the Ocean floor.

Alright, let's try this again..

"Answer me!" he commanded, forcing an invisible hand around Quirrel's open wound and squeezing.

He saw the man waver, "AHHH- Bulg- AH!" his sentence ended abruptly, as his neck glowed dark green and in a second a hole appeared in his neck.

Just from one look at the mark in his neck that was slowly growing, Harry knew Quirrell was a dead man walking.. ah well.

Quirrell started to suffocate, suspended hundreds of feet in the air; dying with each passing second.

Fuck it, he's dead either way - "Legillmens!"

He dived into the mans mind, warping through his barriers like a light breeze; and was met with dark green corruption, everywhere. His mind was being ripped apart by the corruption mark; destroying his memories with each second till nothing was left.

Harry just sighed; and exited his almost gone mind. With nothing left to gain, he took pity on the Death Eater - ignis flammae!

He flicked a finger - the man's body erupting in bright blue flames.

Instantly, his clothes burned away to the hottest flames in the world - then in a few seconds, his body turned to dust. Harry flicked a motion, and the flames disappeared.

Sending, a strong gust of wind - he let the man's ashes drift out over the open ocean.

He shook his head in frustration, fucking Riddle..

With a sharp snap, he disappeared.

* * *

Harry, with some exaggerated trepidation; realized he needed a wand. While this whole powerful ring, moving of hands form of magic was fun - it was not suited for others to see it.

His phoenix wand, one he hadn't used in many years - was like a second brother to the Elder; slightly less powerful but still sung with his magic beautifully.

He loved that wand, he just hoped he arrived before John snatched it up.

Standing outside Ollivanders, he half expected people to stop and gaggle at him - the Boy-Who-Lived but nobody seemed to notice nor care in the busy street.

Then he realized, nobody had seen John since their father's death; nine years ago. Which meant, they were probably hiding quite well; in fact - Harry is the one who should be careful walking around Diagon Alley in case some Death Eaters mistake him for his brother.

Could use a good fight, Harry grinned and shook his head, blood slowly rising to the idea.

Cunning, guile, strike when they least expect it.

Harry had a few choice words about that to his new tutor, comparing him to a puny garden snake.

But that didn't stop Salazar's words from floating through his mind.

Harry sighed and entered the shop - already regretting it as the smell of burnt shears floated heavily in the air.

Ollivander emerged from the back, pale eyes shining like moons, wide with excitement just like last time he'd seen him a million years ago, if he was surprised to see a young boy standing at the front of his shop by himself; instead of a full family like always - he didn't show it.

"Good evening," he smiled, "How may I help you?"

The old man was taking the boy in, eyes gleaming with interest - Harry bit the inside of his cheek from telling him he wasn't his brother. There was no reason to give that away..

"I'm here to buy a wand" he answered plan and simple, eyes drifting towards a stack of boxes behind Ollivander.

"Are your parents with you?" he asked, looking around for them.

"No, their away on business.. If we could hurry, your the last stop on my Hogwarts list; and I really wanna get home before dinner."

Harry had planned this on purpose to be a late night stop, hoping the old man was too tired to ask questions; after the pre-Hogwarts madhouse that currently crowded Diagon Alley.

Ollivander frowned, but said nothing against it, instead he walked to the shelves behind him taking in the frayed boxes; "I must say, your eyes are strikingly familiar to a customer I had earlier in the day, might be of some relation."

Harry's breath did a sharp intake, almost painfully holding his features together in a blanket stare. Ollivander had yet to move his eyes away from the boxes as he talked, hand drifting over them slowly.

"He partnered with thirteen inches beechwood and dragon heartstring, nice and flexible - I don't know his name, for he didn't give it. He would be a first-year like yourself; however, maybe you've met him?"

Ollivander walked back to Harry, a wand in hand - with a glance Harry knew it wouldn't match him.

"I highly doubt were of relation sir, I'm muggleborn…" he said as he grabbed the outstretched wand, then realized he was giving too much information away for no reason. Salazar would rip him a new one later..

The wand, as predicted did nothing but splutter some yellow lumens out the front - and Ollivander snatched it back from him.

"Ah, how unfortunate", whether he was talking about the wand, or his blood status - Harry couldn't tell.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the two as they worked through wands, each even worse than the last.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy- "

Harry waved it, and a box exploded behind the old man, who seized it back.

"No, no - here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on- "

Loud snap sounded, as the wand jumped away from his hand - Harry could of swore he heard a whimper from it.

Eight wands later, they were getting nowhere.

"Trick customer, eh? Not to worry, you're compadre was quite similar - we'll find a match here somewhere…"

Harry glanced at the time, they had been here for thirty minutes - he really didn't want some unwanted person to walk in during this, so he decided to throw the old man a bone.

"I think the phoenix feather from earlier worked the best, maybe a longer length, twelve maybe thirteen inches?" Harry tried his best to sound the innocent little kid he wasn't but for a moment he thought Ollivander saw through his ruse.

"I wonder, now.. Yes, I have one… unusual combination.. Interesting.."

He disappeared into the far back of the shop, digging around for a couple of minutes - before making his way back to the front.

"Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and suppl- "

He didn't even get to finish the sentence, as suddenly the wand glided from his hands to the boy before him - as soon as they connected a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, dancing spots of light on the walls.

Harry tried his best to look surprised, and sheepish - but his focus was on the wand in his hand. Oh, she sung majestically - his magic flowing down it like an extension of his arm.

He hadn't realized how much he missed the feel of a wand in his hand. It was comforting, and familiar - while the ring was powerful, much more powerful than his phoenix feather wand; it didn't have the joyful playing nature that she did.

Mr. Ollivander look astounded, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh very good. Well, well, well… how curious.."

The black haired boy, came back to reality as this statement - and saw the connection forming in the old man's mind.

"It feels good sir, how much?" he held out a hand full of Galleons, and Ollivander seemed torn between telling him something, or just letting it go. He seemed to decide upon Harry's blank stare.

"Eleven galleons, young one"

Grateful, Harry handed him the change - then took out the shop as fast as he could without drawing suspicion.

Once, he was around a corner - then another; he disapparated with a loud crack.

Breathing rather hard, he leaned against the wall of Potter Manor - his house-elfs looking on with concern.

Harry brought his hand up, taking in the wand - no trace, no tracking charms, she's perfect.

He felt whole again.

Striding towards his study, with an absent flick of his wrist - he transfigured a few items just for test. He felt the leap of joy from the wand, her magic stretching out after a long rest - and Harry smiled.

Get ready for the ride of your life, girl.

* * *

(Two Weeks Later)

Harry sat in the small cafe, gripping his thigh every few minutes in anger. Across the room, Augustus Rookwood is flirting nonchalantly with a young girl at the counter. A passerby would think him fairley successful in the endeavor too by the way the girl was laughing and touching his arm across the counter every few minutes.

But Harry knew better, he had watched the man slip her the amortentia earlier in the day. His hand was quick as a cobra, striking when her back was turned but with Harry's seeker eyes he had caught the movement. It was lucky that Harry was muggle raised, having bought himself a book to look occupied; it hid his face of anger and the death eater didn't raise an eyebrow at his constant meandering in the shop.

His aura however was something else, almost giving away his rage but after a moment was very tightly contained in the depth of his masked persona. Really, he wanted so badly to destroy the man before him as he impressed his control over the poor muggle girl unaware of what was happening. But Harry had to be smart; death and destruction was not the answer.. No, instead he decided this would be a great test for this worlds Ministry.

Just to see how corrupt were they, how far were they willing to go to sweep things under the rug to avoid a scandal. Also to see how far Voldemort's current reach was, how deep into the Ministry his tendrils grew.

Harry smiled as he realized that he had picked the perfect subject for this trial. For even if Rookwood avoided jail in a few months, he doubt the man could avoid the wrath of his wife - who he knew would not take kindly to their marriage vows being broken. In fact, he was rather shocked that a pureblood marriage didn't have anti-affair charms attached. Oh well, not Harry's problem.

After the young girls shift ended they ended up back at her apartment, and Harry watched with sickening stomach from across the street as Rookwood destroyed the innocence of the presumably virgin girl. It would all be for the better, Harry thought rather justly; feeling remorse in himself despite the statement - it felt too much like Albus, playing god with peoples lives, in that moment but he proceed with the plan anyways.

He knew that this happened all the time, everywhere. what was one more innocent soul to be corrupted when so much was on the line?

Once he got evidence of Augustus performing a Oblivation on the girl, and tidying her apartment with a swish of his wand; Harry decided he had enough and disapparated home.

Taking the memory of the illegal event, he mailed it out in a small vial with a short note to an Auror Captain he remembered back in the day was preferential against Rookwood. Apparently the two had gone to Hogwarts together, and had a tender relationship that bared similar to Malfoy and Harry's of youth.

Finished his task, Harry drank himself a health vial of Firewhiskey and drunkenly wrote a message to Ragnok to provide a large sum of funds to the muggle girl from his own vaults - after everything had blown over of course.

While frevility of life was not Harry' fortey, he had to concede it did have it's advantages, and Ogden's finest did go down smoother than firewhiskey.

Money in this situation was not the correct answer, but Harry knew he could do nothing more - she would luckily have no memory of the event; and one day maybe Harry would tell her what happened but for now there were more pressing matters to attend to..

* * *

Perhaps it was his own nerves fault; fried to all hell from so many wars, duels and battles - or simply he had been expecting something like this to happen.

When the explosion rocked Diagon Alley like a massive earthquake, he didn't even flinch.

It was just another day for Harry James Potter.

Fenrir Greyback and his band of misfits came pouring out of Dewleys Delights; unconscious owner in tow - Harry leapt into action.

Wand moving immediately, unbreakable wards erecting around the alley faster than one could breath; shields enveloping around the pedestrians that were thrown back to the cobblestone ground.

Harry flicked his wand too and fro, putting out fires and moving rubble from victims; his magic singing at finally getting a chance to shine. Attention focused solely on the people, turning away from the Death Eaters - already he could see some victims were dead; too far gone to waste time on.

His swift action was rewarded delightfully with the sound of Fenrir letting loose a feral roar at finding his quick apparition escape blocked. Harry recognized this was a snatch and grab, a common intimidation tactic Voldemort was most famous for in the first war, and now he was using it again. Such a pity Tom, so predictable.

With no way to apparate away, the Death Eaters tried to run - only to find their path blocked by a wall of earth erupting from the ground on either side of the alley.

It took only those few surprised seconds before the Aurors descended on the scene; raining hellfire upon the group efficiently from the rooftops.

Harry was impressed, they were using much more powerful stunners and shield breakers than what was normal during his time. But the snatcher group were no pushovers either, everytime one of their shields broke - another would replace it; stronger than the last.

In between each flow of shields they fought back crudely - blasting at the rooftops with bludgeons and bombardias: aiming for maximum damage.

The Auror's didn't have such luxury, they had to keep their spellcast to minimum damage or fear the wrath of Diagon Alley's shopmakers later that day.

Instead of engaging, Harry watched invisible a safe distance away.

This wasn't his fight, sure he wanted to take on the Death Eaters; rip them apart one by one, but right now was too early in his plans for him to appear. He needed time for his body to grow older; and his magic too be stronger.

It wasn't worth the risk to take down a weak squadron led by Fenrir Greyback of all people. If he engaged right now, it would all be for waste..

Turning away from the fight with a growl, he waved protective magic: shielding and healing the innocents around Diagon, moving them into the shops and away from the spellcast.

So far he counted five dead, thirty or more injured - gathering the unmoving bodies into a pile off the side of an alleyway; he looked back towards the fight to see how the Aurors were progressing.

A standstill, it was clear - but the more time passed, the more Aurors came and soon their deadlock turned into a tide against.

Fenrir was going mad, his werewolf bloodlust coming out - he was never skilled with a wand, only those feral sharped hands. A fighter in all sense of the word, and nothing was within his grasp - the Aurors were playing smart; keeping a healthy distance between them.

Finally after what seemed like too long, their last shield broke - the Death Eaters magically exhausted, but the hellfire doesn't relent. They bombarded the group to an inch of their lives, before finally a Captain called a halt and they stop.

Harry smiled, it's a small victory in the war - but a victory nonetheless.

The temporary happiness quickly faded however as he looked down at the bodies below his invisible hand, with a look of sadness he pitied the dead and dying. There were about forty people before him, and any moment he knew the Auror would round on them next.

Too slow to help some of them, a waste of life..

Taking a deep breath, he scrunched his face in pain before the familiar stretching band of darkness filled his senses and he disappeared with the group of unconscious bodies.

* * *

Bell

My name is Amanda Bell and I am a second year resident at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

Today is my first day in the Emergency room, the first line of defense in the hospital; it's every Medi-Witches dream to be one of the elite first responders. Not to mention the most interesting cases always came through those large double doors first; deadly curses, torn apart limbs, the occasional floating head. Never a dull moment in the Emergency Room of Britain's only Level Three Trauma Center; I smile proudly at the thought.

I'm doing scut work - restocking, manning the phone, and fixing the occasional glob nosed sick kid with an overactive parent. But relishing every second of it.

This is my dream!

"Just because Muggles get sick too, doesn't mean your child is a Squib, ma'am", although you might be. "Take one of these potions, lots of water, and rest - he'll be back on his feet in no time" I say instead with a thin smile.

The Pureblooded, married her cousin and took all his money in the divorce, witch shakes my hand more gratefully than I was expecting and bounds out the door with her swaying son in tow.

I shake my head in aspiration, cleaning off the barely touched mattress and swishing the crash cart back into place.

A small syringe falls to the floor, and I bend over to pick it up - at the same time I feel the hairs on my arms stand on end.

Magic is filling the air, more powerful magic I've ever felt in my life.

The room pauses, everyone feels it - then suddenly chaos descends on the quiet waiting room; an avalanche of people appear out of nowhere. Bodies on top of bodies all of a sudden where nothing stood before. We're stunned, frozen in place before an Attending yells into the silence; and suddenly the room comes alive.

A woman screams, a child cries and I'm rushing to the bodies - it's a mass huddle of movement, in my right ear I hear an angry growl followed by the loud crack of an Apparition. When I look, nobody's there - and I shake it away as I bring a body onto a stretcher.

In the back of my head, I hear the short call over the speaker system; Code Black. Everyone runs to the Emergency Room, doctors and nurses flooding in to help.

Beds are filled within seconds, the crowds filling the hallways - patients crammed onto trolleys, some tended by strained relatives but most are alone. Each second we work fast, one nurse is popping a mans arm back into the socket, a resident is floating fingers back on a hand weaving complex magic to bind them together; across the room I see a rock being pulled out of a mans chest.

I focus on the body in front of me, its a young girl - sixteen, seventeen at most and my heart sinks. Her wounds aren't healing, despite the mass of potions we're shoving down her throat. An attending comes over, feeling her pulse - and looking at his watch. After a brief flick of his wand over the body, he nods to me - "Call it".

Nothing else to be done, he walks to the next patient calm as day - my hands are shaking; I know he's right but I feel sick to my stomach. We've trained for days like this, focus on what's probable, not what's possible. Save who can be saved, leave the dead to rest.

With a long breath, I glance at the clock; "Time of Death 14:50" a nurse scribbles on paper, than floats the body away. I stutter a breath, covering it with a cough - shoving the emotions whirling in me back down; after a moment I move on to the next patient.

The days just begun.

* * *

McCalliber

My name is James McCalliber, and I am a Death Eater.

I was born into the Noble House of McCalliber, first son of Andrew McCalliber - the Minister of Magical Public Relations. A man who was respected on both sides of the aisle, and across the world. I am proud of my father, as all men should be - and when he tells me something is a certain way, I take it as law.

My father taught me from birth how to be a proper pureblood. He taught me honor, customs, loyalty, and most of all - blood status. All together they make up the foundation of our society, and anybody who doesn't know this is below us.

For, without honor how can you respect a position?

Without customs how could you know how to treat special people?

Without loyalty, how can you expect to trust, and without blood status how could you know who is the greatest of us all?

We are the most powerful creatures on the planet - the Apex Predators, top of the food chain. Blood status cannot be changed, it cannot be magicked away or forgotten for without it we would not know our history, where we come from. Blood status tells us who has the most powerful magic, who should be followed and who should be cast out from our society.

Which is why my family joined the Dark Lord in his fight against the Light.

The Light, I piss on the group, they believe those who would destroy our society should be allowed to join it. The same people who developed muggle bombs, and diseases the world has never seen before.

I shudder to imagine what they would make if they knew of magic.

And magic they almost knew, with the rise of Albus Dumbledore; and the defeat of Grindelwald (another great Pureblood) the Light faction became powerful and was on the verge of destroying the Statue of Secrecy. Truly, a frightening movement, but fortunately the Dark Lord rose to destroy them and many Purebloods who didn't have a voice before were now being heard again.

So, with our interests in mind; we joined the Dark Lord and swore fealty to his movement.

Currently my job is to watch over this alleyway, with my partner, that leads to one of our many hideouts in downtown London.

Fifteen of us have been staying in this safehouse for a few weeks now, each day getting more and more tense as we wait for orders from the Dark Lord. This morning, we had thought it was just another waiting day; I was eating a shit breakfast of MRE rations cursing Rookwood for not leaving us a house elf, when sudden Fenrir Greyback burst through the front door.

A Diagon raid he tells us shortly; a shop owner had failed to swear fealty and it was time to pay. Fenrir commanded his plan as we stood at attention, and within thirty minutes seven men left with him to execute. We expected them back within minutes, an hour passed with no word and I started to get nervous.

Just as I was about to go back inside and send a patronus to our commander, a figure appeared at the end of the alleyway.

The man walked towards us with a determined strut, his cloak billowing from the wind - a little drizzle had started to fall overhead a few minutes before but did not reach this man's cloak.

Wizard..

I flex my hand towards my wand, his presence screams of danger and my gut sinked uncomfortably - I should of listened.

Without a word, my partner falls to the ground - it happens so fast that I'm frozen in place.

I didn't even see his wand, he continues his slow gate towards us unperturbed. Each moment, the magical tension rises and I feel my pants suddenly soaked in the front.

My hands are shaking, but I can't move them - my whole body is convulsing.

He grabs my already collapsing throat, then squeezes; the loss of oxygen slows my brains. And I suddenly feel it, the invasion into my thoughts.

It's like a tsunami of power crashing against my barriers. Their gone within seconds, the last thing I feel before darkness descends is the ripping of all my memories from my mind.

He's stealing them from me, and I know in that moment I'll never remember them again.

* * *

Rookwood

My name is Augustus Rookwood, and I am a Death Eater Commander.

The raid was a cluster fuck from the start, I had watched it all happen - from the rooftop of the building over.

Fenrir was bloodlust but efficient, he destroyed the front of the shop with a madwork of reductos; and got the store owner in record time. But then, it all went to shit; the wards were in place before I could even breath - it was mad confusion.

It happened so fast, too fast - we'd been betrayed, it was the only explanation. Once, I saw the Earth mounds rise to block Fenrir's path; I knew it was over.

Diving from the rooftop, I flicked my Firebolt from my pocket engorging it on the downfall as I flew away into the night.

Not a moment too soon either, for the Aurors had descended - I could hear their shouts as I flew away, Fenrir had fallen.

My thoughts cleared, I could be next. There was power in numbers, nearby I had a small army - well trained loyal soldier eager for a fight - I dashed in their direction, it was time to fight back.

I landed in the alleyway a few minutes later, and my pride sank into my throat. Two of my soldiers dead bodies guarded door - swallowing I dash past them, pushing open the distinctly untouched door.

I look around the bloodied room with a haunted expression, eighteen of my men are dead; there are no survivors. The scene is brutal, each loyal follower killed in a unique fashion - seemingly of sport more than necessity.

Whoever did this was a monster, whoever did this was another player in the game - and they held no qualms over murder.

No.. This wasn't murder. It was a slaughter.

Dispelling the images from my mind, I close the door behind me and walked back down the alleyway.

Our safehouses are compromised, and I clear my thoughts - I have to report this to my Lord.

Before I'm even out the Alleyway I feel the Wards go up.

It was fast, too fast yet again; and suddenly they descend from all sides. Wands pointed at me from every direction, I had no choice but to surrender, the red stunners slamming into my stomach before I could even get to my wand.. fuck.

* * *

Harry

(Three Days Later)

Harry could easily say, the Ministry before his time was extremely laxed in subversive security than what he was currently met with today. If not for his intimate knowledge of the underground intrecases of the Ministry, he would find a rather hard time sneaking into his old stomping ground.

His frustration was playcated in the distinction that this, despite his current mood, was a good thing. It meant if Voldemort attempted an all out assault on the government, he would meet a brick wall of defenses.

The experience in itself was surreal; having been used to just popping up wherever he pleased whenever he pleased this whole stop and wait business was excruciating boring. He could still do it, but it would be painful and he wouldn't learn of their securities.

His disguise as a messenger for the Auror Department, disappointingly, worked better than he was expecting. Still as full of themselves as always..

Today, he had decided to give the old Auror Commander; Amelia Bones a visit.

Too long has Rookwood sat in a Holding Cell deep in the bowels of the Ministry for his liking.

This was becoming ridicilous, they had memories of him raping a girl, they had him at the scene of a mass murder, and they had evidence he was notoriously well known in the ranks of Death Eaters - testified by none other than the perpetrators of a attack on Diagon Alley just three days before.

Surely, whatever paperwork - or bullshit excuses the Purebloods were forcing Amelia to file before handing one of their own over to the Dementors of Azkaban would have been thoroughly finished by now.

No, this was taking too long - he needed justice now.. Before Voldemort decided to infiltrate, or worse full scale attack to retrieve back one of his top lieutenants. Really, he was blaming someone else for his own mistake - but it felt like a justifiable mistake. He had acted on emotion rather than rationality, after seeing so many bodies piled up in St. Mungo's; he had decided to act.

He was a Potter after all, it was in his blood to get revenge for something like this; so he killed off a few of Voldemort's followers and 'directed' (imperiused) one of the Aurors to the location.

At the time, it seemed like a good idea, but now with a calm head he realised he had left a loose end with Rookwood. The Aurors would assume Voldemort had gotten mad at his minions for failing the attack on Diagon and killed them off, but Rookwood would know better - that there was another Player on the board.

With a blank smile, Harry passed through yet another Dracarus ward - tightening his grip against the fake mail he supposedly carrying towards the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

This was pathetic, he should of been questioned by a dozen of the men he'd passed already. Somebody they'd never seen before walking straight through the Law Enforcement Office? He could of already set up various timed reducto runes; or short fused Tention Bombs. This was pathetic..

He finally made it across the office, taking the steps up to the Auror Commanders office. It was crowded, people coming and going in various scenes of distress and anguish - a madhouse of paper and notes floating about the room.

Harry disappeared from view without a word, and stuck to the wall - keeping far enough away from the Trainees dashing about between Captains seated at the High Table.

The air was tense, a meeting about to start - every Auror anxious at what they were about to hear.

Finally, the Auror Commander stepped in - Amelia's flanked by Kingsley and Dawlish, talking in her ear and Harry gets the amused notion that Dawlish would rather be anywhere but this meeting. Good you dumb fuck, maybe next time you'll place better security over Diagon.

Both in this world, and his own; Dawlish was in Captain of Public Security - which meant his failure to defend the most public place of all, besides the Ministry was a utter fucking failure.

"Good morning" Amelia mutters once at the Head seat, and the room mimics her.

"Yesterday, we got reports that members of The Black Spades was seen in-"

Harry is gaping, they're not even talking about the Diagon Attack!

One thought clears through his mind, and his wand twitches at his side - the Ministry's already fallen.

He gives Amelia a critical eye, looking for slurring in her words or that telltale glaze in the eye, she has none. Not Imperiused, but how? He didn't know, he needed more information..

With one last look around the room, he let them know how weak their securities were and apparated straight out of the building - letting his crack echo for all to hear.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I will admit this Chapter does need a bit of a touchup; I had reviewed and revised twice but I can't seem to get the timeline exactly where I want it for Daphne/Harry - and over the next two weeks I'll be working on that._

_For now though, I'm posting this for everyone to read incase it inspires some new ideas in your stories, or maybe gives you a perspective on a Harry in a new world that you hadn't thought about before._

_Truly, I never understood some Author's need to make Harry some moral ground character that never does anything illegal; I think that's bullshit. After all this is the same man who **constantly** broke the rules at school, and with the Ministry. I'll admit Harry killing Quirrel out of petty disposition towards Voldemort was a stretch but really what's a story without a little anguish towards our Protaganist._

_Review if you agree, review if you don't - either way tell me I'm bad at writing or tell me you wanna see more; I love honest criticism._


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